


seawolf

by dakhtar



Series: voltron crossovers [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV), Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Gen, Hunk & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, Imagine being a werewolf away from his pack because sPACE, Lance & Blue Lion - Freeform, Langst, No knowledge needed for Teen Wolf, Rating May Change, Werewolf Lance, canon timeline for teen wolf, only a vague crossover, set pre-blade of marmora, since Lance is in SPACE, so much angst is coming brace urselves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2018-10-18 04:31:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 39,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10609317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dakhtar/pseuds/dakhtar
Summary: “Werewolves can’t be astronauts,”Derek’s annoying voice had grumped.“Werewolves can’t be pilots. Werewolves can’t befighter jet pilots, Lance, for God’s sake,Werewolves can’t pilot giant space robot cats that join together to become a giant space robot man and fight an evil purple bat-cat empire!”Well, he hadn’t said thatlastpart, but Derektotally would’ve. (Alt title: lonewolf - previously:mostly void, partially stars)





	1. wolf moon

**Author's Note:**

> a) i'm new, b) i don't know what i'm doing, c) send hALP.

He had his mother’s blue eyes, his father’s warm skin, and his Uncle Peter’s flair for the dramatic. He had dreams of flying through the vast unknown of space and maybe – just, _maybe_ – meeting new species, and an entire ~~pack~~ family that would roll their eyes but indulge him with yet another new book on astronomy.  

But he’d never actually thought he’d do it.  

Honestly, the mere fact he’d succeeded as a cargo pilot had come as a huge surprise to everyone. Aunt Talia, the Hale matriarch and his mom’s older sister, had been worried when he’d actually gotten accepted. Everybody had just been humouring him from birth, thinking he’d see logic soon enough and quit. Only his cousin Derek had seen that he’d been serious, but everyone had waved him off and told him that Lance would grow out of it.  

But he hadn’t.   

(Derek’s resulting, _“I told you so,”_ had pissed off everyone.)  

But Aunt Talia’s worry hadn’t been for naught. Lance hadn’t been stupid enough to brush it off, he knew it was serious – he’d have to move to the Garrison permanently, after all – he wasn’t _stupid_ , but he was so sure he could do it. So what if he was a young werewolf who’d be away from his pack? So what if there’d be no other werewolves at the Garrison, since space exploration wasn’t a field of study landlocked creatures like themselves were interested in?  

But he knew it’d be hard. The mere fact that even Uncle Peter worried told him that it’d be _real_ hard.  

But Lance did it.  

He did it and he did even _better_.  

_Sure_ , it was only thanks to Keith Kogane dropping out, but he hadn’t even been aiming for fighter pilot! Not really! Yeah, he’d have _liked_ it, who the hell wouldn’t want to be a _fighter_ pilot, but- like- _werewolf!_ Him! Being so far away from his family felt _physically painful_ at times, Lance didn’t even _want_ to add actual stress and adrenaline from combat situations into it. That was just asking for him to accidentally claw someone’s face off.  

Uncle Peter would've found that _hilarious_.  

But he made do. The sudden promotion let him meet Hunk and Pidge, his engineer and programmer, and Lance learned to substitute the pack bond with them. Hunk was great, they'd known each other from before Lance's sudden promotion, and he let Lance literally hang off him whenever, not realising that Lance was scent marking him for the whole world to know. And while Pidge wasn’t all too receptive to touch (or... hanging out at _all_ ), Lance still got in shoulder pats and hair ruffles, still got him to crack a smile and laugh at a well placed joke, so all was good.  

He was doing it. Sloppily and without a clue, but doing it.  

And his family – confused and worried yet so painfully supportive – would cheer him on from the sidelines, through video chats and phone calls, delivered goods and birthday presents. Derek still grumbled about how stupid it was – a werewolf that wanted to go to _space_ , why was everyone _encouraging_ this? But he’d also been the one who’d stolen the ancient Hale talisman from who knew where and personally snuck into a high security building to deliver it directly to Lance, to let him trace over the triskelion that made up his pack’s symbol when it felt like he was going crazy, when control was a hairbreadths away from snapping under the tension of a full moon.  

_Alpha_ , it would remind him, _Beta_ , _Omega_.  

Aunt Talia had been _pissed_.  

He didn’t have that with him now. Here, in the void of space, in a flying castle built by hands ten thousand years old, he had nothing to keep him grounded. (Get it? _Grounded_? He cracked himself up sometimes.)  

Only Blue knew, like he’d known her from that first touch, their bond settling in and snapping into place like any other pack bond he’d had. He could always feel it, even when too far away to mentally converse, something he figured quickly the others couldn’t.  Probably because he already _knew_ bonds like this, what with being a werewolf and all, he reasoned. Made sense that he could feel the actual metaphysical connection they shared with their lions. Because he shared the exact same metaphysical connection with his pack. Because he was a werewolf.  

A werewolf. In space. _Flying a giant sentient robot lion._   

He did _not_ sign up for this. Holy shit, his pack must be losing their collective _minds_ over this.  

He’d talked to Hunk about it, actually. The whole family thing, not werewolf thing. Hunk had mentioned how his family must be worried, Pidge had interrupted that no, actually, the Garrison had probably lied and made up some training accident, told their families that there were no bodies to be found. Hunk had looked _devastated_ , but Lance had just frowned, something like unease stirring in his stomach.   

He could still feel his pack bonds, after all. Weak, sure, faded, definitely, stretched out across light-years after light-years, enough galaxies and nebulas in between to drive him dizzy, _absolutely_. But he could still _feel_ them, right in his soul, like he could feel Blue.  

Which meant they could feel him too – distant, muted, out of reach, but still _there_ , still _alive_. Meaning they wouldn’t accept any cover up the Garrison tried pulling over their eyes, wouldn’t rest until they figured out what the hell had happened, where he’d gone. He’d have essentially disappeared off the face of the earth to them, and they’d never realise that that was more _literal_ than metaphorical.  

They’d go insane trying to figure it out.  

God, they’d feel guilty for encouraging him throughout his dumb space obsession in the first place.  

“Hey,” Shiro had quietly greeted him the next day, when it had just been the two of them in the kitchen. “Don’t take what Pidge had said so hard, yeah? If your family knew what you were doing – fighting to save them and the universe – they’d be so proud of you. You have to hold onto that, alright Lance?”  

“Yeah,” Lance had replied distantly, mind elsewhere, stuck on all the threads in his heart tugging away, away, _away_ , to really pay much attention. “Sure.”  

Shiro squeezed his shoulder, quiet yet groundingly solid. Then left him be.  

#  

Sometimes, after a rough battle, Lance would stay in Blue for just a bit longer than the others did in their Lions. He always played it off as wanting to congratulate his girl on a battle well fought, and they always rolled their eyes and accepted it, but the truth was-  

-the truth was more complicated.  

Blue knew, Blue _understood_ , and she purred in his mind and rumbled as he struggled to breathe evenly, as he unlatched his claws from her controls, as he flexed them open and closed over and over again in a vain hope that they’d disappear. They always did, in the end, but he wasn’t stupid enough not to notice how each time took longer, stretching from a few seconds to minutes on end.  

He’d never had a problem with his shift before.  

His momma used to joke he was more wolf than boy, back then, would roll her eyes when he popped a claw to open up a can of tuna for her. Everyone knew Lance had the best control in his family, just as everyone knew Derek was a little softie underneath all that grump. Every time the McClain’s went to visit the Hales up in California Aunt Talia would sit him down and have him meditate. She’d say his control was amazing, that she was sure he’d be able to do a full shift like she could soon, if only he “ _could_ _learn_ _to_ _sit_ _still_ _and_ _meditate, Lance, dear god, where do you even get all that energy from?”_   

Hell, in his entire life, there were two things Lance could claim a hundred percent confidence in: his shift, and his swimming.  

And yet here he was now, struggling with the former, bereft of the latter.  

_Breathe_ , Blue purred at him, the order more an impression than words. _Release_.  

This shouldn’t be even difficult, though! Lance was in _space_ ; there was literally no moon around to loosen his control, literally no push and pull of its power now that he was so far away from his homeworld. He’d been a bit worried at first, what with the other moons they’d occasionally come across when visiting other planets, or just flying by in their space castle, but he never felt any pull towards them, nothing at all, not even a little tickle, so he’d dismissed it.  

And yet, something was _obviously_ messing with him.  

It grew harder and harder to ignore the constant tugging in his chest. Grew more and more difficult to ignore the distance widening between him and his family, his _pack._ He tried – _god_ , did he try – substituting what he used to have for what he had now. He was stuck in space, sure, and who knew for how long, but he wasn’t _alone_. He just had to remind himself of that.  

But even that wasn’t easy.  

Hunk was great. Hunk was solid. At this point, the fake little bond they’d had between them had strengthened into something real, something strong and solid and dependable. It was still temporary though – having Blue in his mind and heart had made Lance learn how to notice these things – and it would remain temporary for as long as Hunk had no idea what Lance was. Lance wasn’t skeevy enough to make a legit pack bond with someone who didn’t even know what a pack bond _was_ , ew. But Hunk was still Hunk, and Lance would forever be grateful for that.  

Surprisingly enough, it was Coran who ended up helping Lance out the most. Lance hadn’t even _meant_ for it to happen, hadn’t known if pack bonds could pop up between people of different species, but somewhere between meeting Coran and saving him from that blast during the whole Sendak mess it must have just... clicked.  

The bond there was strong too, just like Hunk’s. It was solid and dependable, too, also just like Hunk’s. But it... was alive, as well? Lance didn’t know how to explain it – the bond quivered and sang, sometimes, energetic and full of life just like Coran himself. It buoyed Lance in ways he’d only ever felt around his own family, filled him with the determination and enthusiasm he needed to go another day out here in the cold of space. And if Lance spent more time helping Coran around the castle, cleaning pods and listening to the man tell improbable stories of creatures Lance had never heard of? If none of the others could understand how Lance put up with it for hours on end?  

Well, what did it matter to them?  

Because Lance didn’t have a bond with them. At all.  

What little he’d had with Pidge lessened drastically with the revelation of her gender (how could he be a good pack member if he hadn't even _known_ ), and died a quiet death with the lack of interaction that came afterwards. It was nobody’s fault, really. She’d gotten busy with freeing her family, and Lance had gotten sidetracked with the sudden loss of the literal Earth beneath his feet.  

He’d felt it, the moment he’d been too out of range for his Earth’s moon, felt it when they’d flown through that first portal to Arus, the way a connection he’d never even noticed before had just... _cut_. It was what had alerted Blue to who he was, to _what_ he was, and only her apologetically strengthening their bond to ground him in the sudden loss of his moon’s pull had saved him from making a fool of himself in front of the others.  

So yeah, they were friends, sure, and they worked  together as Voltron, but... that was it. Lance was okay with that. She was searching for her family- why the hell would he begrudge that?  

So was Shiro, in a way. He was right beside Pidge in the search for Samuel and Matt Holt, and that was great, because Pidge needed someone who understood. Shiro actually reminded Lance of his older sibling, Leo. Leo(nardo) had been born human in a family of werewolves, and unlike Lance's dad, he’d declined the bite when Aunt Talia had offered it. It worked out, since he and Aunt Talia’s eldest, Jon, were both human and best friends.  

But the similarities were in personality, really. Leo, even while being human, maybe _especially_ because he was human, had always been the calm leadership type. _Fearless leader_ , they’d call him, sometimes respectfully, most times sarcastically, and he’d slap them upside the head and deny it when they complained to their parents.  

Lance had called Shiro that once. By accident. And the guilt and bone aching _want_ he’d felt for his older brother than had almost crippled him right then and there. That was the problem with Shiro; Lance looked up to him, sure, but more than that, Lance saw his older brother in him, and Lance _wanted_.  

And maybe Shiro felt that. Maybe he felt it and realised he couldn’t give Lance that, couldn’t be the big brother he was to Keith to Lance as well. There was a disconnect between them because of it, both of them trying but failing to keep their relationship purely professional, but sometimes Shiro would join in on their stupid little jokes (laser noises, of all things), and sometimes Lance would roll his eyes and sarcastically call him dad, and they’d both slink off afterwards to hide and regroup from the momentary break in professionalism.  

And with Keith?  

God, Lance didn’t even _know_. His control was growing sporadic – every battle made it harder for him to not pop a claw, for instance – but Keith? Keith drove his instincts _wild_. Lance had never really been aggressive; his natural control meant he’d never had moments of beastly violence like the rest of his family had. Even when sparring Lance found it _fun_ , even as he’d pop dislocated shoulders back into place and set his own broken limbs from an especially rough training session. He’d never seen red (haha, _red_ ), at least, not until he’d seen Keith.  

He’d complained about it to his family over a video call once, months ago while still at the Garrison. It’d only been Leo and Amelia on the other end, his brother sitting at the table with the laptop while his older sister sprawled over him to watch. They’d found it hilarious, Amelia laughing as she’d said, “Finally, someone that rubs you the wrong way! Glad to see you’re human, lil’ bro.”  

Lance had rolled his eyes and ignored her, but...  

... something about Keith made him want to bear his _fangs,_ and Keith didn’t make it easy by fighting back.  

Blue was worried about that, a little. She could see into him, after all, and she agreed that there was something _there_ , that while _Lance_ was hurt that Keith didn’t even _remember_ him from the Garrison, that was not enough for the sheer _challenge_ Lance felt around the Red Paladin.  

So Lance had to keep an eye out on that too, lest he do something terrible simply because he had no control. Ugh, was this what Derek constantly went through with his shit control? No wonder he was always so grumpy!  

Time marched on though, even in the dead of space, and Lance learned to make do. He learned to use his downtime to settle himself- face masks and long showers and every other self-care routine he’d first gotten into during his stay at the Garrison. He learned to make do with the tentative pack bonds that formed from repeated Voltron formations, from drills and food fights and the occasional wound that shook them. He learned to accept Blue’s constant support, to swim in her reassurance and feel the moon’s pull and push on the tides of her huge presence.  

Lance learned to make do. And he was happy – sort of. He was...  

...  

God, he just wanted to see his _pack._ Just one more time. He wanted to see and feel _rain_ , to hear the siren call of the moon when it was full, to feel the fullness of pack bonds at their most powerful, to play wrestle with his siblings and avoid his dad’s half hearted swipes. To gang up on Laura – who everyone was sure was to be the next Hale alpha – with Derek whenever they visited and babysit Cora so Derek could sneak out to his secret date.  

Had Derek told the family yet? Would he have told Lance who it was he'd been seeing for the past few weeks? He’d promised he would, soon, but- well. _Space_. Lance would totally forgive Derek for the wait.  

He was nice like that.  

#  

Being a paladin of Voltron, surprisingly, had more to it than just fighting.  

In retrospect, Lance didn’t know why he was so surprised – this wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen diplomacy in action. His mom, being a born werewolf of the Hale line, was usually the one that made nice with the other werewolf packs that surrounded them. At least, at first anyway. After his dad had taken the bite and successfully turned, every werewolf pack in Cuba had only wanted to deal with him, since he was native to the land and thus ‘one of their own’. Mom had been fine with it (ecstatic even) since she hated the leadership position, and dad had taken to it with an exasperated sigh at his wife's beseeching eyes and heated Spanish exchanged with whatever beta had been representing his or her pack, eyes glowing the molten beta glow they all shared.  

He knew this. He’d grown up surrounded by this, by the amount of detailed planning needed whenever Derek and the Hales wanted to come down to visit and vice versa. Derek loved Varadero, came every chance he could get, spoke Spanish better than English and swam in the ocean with Lance until they were both wrinkled to death. Diplomacy was difficult, arguably more so than just outright war, and Lance was stupid not to have expected it.  

Thankfully, Allura had it covered.  

Ravera, the planet they were approaching, was huge and colourful, almost an exact copy of Earth if not for the burnt orange colouring of their land mass, just a few shades darker than their sea. It was five times the size of Earth, and while Lance couldn’t see it from his position on deck, he knew the moon was equally five times larger than his moon, though it seemed to be on the opposite side of the planet for now.  

“Remember,” Coran was lecturing, one hand fretting at an end of his moustache, “The Ravi’s are an extremely instinctual people. Tradition and culture play a heavy role as well, but they live on body language and nature, and can smell weakness from a virka away.”  

Hunk swallowed thickly from beside Lance, looking tense and unnerved, but settled down when Lance gripped his shoulder reassuringly. That sign of trust there, that _faith_ , drove Lance almost _insane_ with awe, his own instincts screaming, _“Look! He trusts me! He trusts I’ll protect him! He’s one of mine! Mine!”_   

“It’ll be fine,” Pidge grumbled. “It’s not like we’re going to _do_ anything anyway. Allura’s going to do everything and we’re just going to stand there and look pretty.”  

“Well, you're not wrong,” Coran brightly agreed, ignoring the sharp disapproving look from Allura, “But in the off chance they speak with you, try and remember; you're all Paladins of Voltron, confidence is the key. As Lance once told me, fake it ‘till you make it!”  

Lance blinked as everyone turned to look at him. “What?” He denied awkwardly, “It's good advice!”  

Keith made a disparaging noise, one that Lance _shouldn't_ have heard even with his werewolf senses but _did_ , raising his hackles as he turned to glare at the dark haired boy. Shiro smoothly stepped in between them, sensing the sudden spike in tension, and Lance- Lance reined in the _need_ to shove Keith down by his stupid neck and make him _submit_. Keith just felt too much like a werewolf sometimes-  

-wait!  

That was exactly it! Keith felt like a _werewolf_! A werewolf he wasn't allied with! A threat! But… But _why?_ He didn't have time to think about it, not with the castle beginning to land and Allura ordering them all to their lions. Distracted, Lance made his way to Blue, his instincts finally settling as waves of Blue’s calm essence lapped over him. She poked at his mind, curious to see where his wondering thoughts had gone, and Lance opened up to her as easily as breathing, pitching the idea that for some reason, Keith registered to his instincts as human, sure, but a _challenger_.  

Her hum was curious, thoughtful. Lance let it stretch as they flew out from their hanger, joining the other lions as they landed gracefully in front of the docked Castle. It was more of a power show really, them coming out in their lions, impractical in case they needed to make a quick escape, but necessary as a show of strength.  

Patting her console, Lance put her down gently on the ground, Hunk to his left and Pidge to his right. She and the other lions bubbled themselves protectively once the Paladins were out of range, eyes still glowing threateningly as the people of Ravera waited patiently outside the gate to their main city.  

The Ravi stood clustered together save for one man who stood front and centre, decked in silver jewellery that contrasted nicely against his brown skin, wild dark hair dropping low behind his back. “Greetings, Paladin of Voltron!” He welcomed, moving close enough that Lance could see he was young, around Shiro’s age if not slightly older. Tall too, a good few inches on Shiro, let alone Lance. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Prince Raikon of Ravera, here to welcome you in to our illustrious capital, Luci.”  

Allura took a step forward, separating herself from the Paladins as their leader, and coolly responded, “We thank you for your warm welcome, Prince. I am Princess Allura of Altea, and these are the Paladins of Voltron.”  

“Of course,” the Prince responded, giving them a toothy grin that was surprisingly genuine, “It is a great honour you show us, visiting our planet. Come! Into the city! The King and Queen are eager to meet you!”  

Beside him, Pidge leaned up on her toes and whispered, “He doesn’t _look_ like a prince.”  

She wasn’t wrong, exactly. From what Lance could see of the small group in front of them, the Ravi favoured loose clothing reminiscent of old Arabian fashion, the kind Lance remembered seeing in _Aladdin._ Even though the planet had seemed more water based than others, the weather was warm, a salty breeze in the air that kept it cool and refreshing rather than muggy and humid. They seemed to be a species that were naturally tall, limbs proportionate as far as Lance could see, but each and every one of them was _ripped_ like they trained in combat simulations from a young age. 

The Prince himself was equally as tall and ripped, wearing only loose cotton pants that tapered above his ankles, showing bare feet and a single, gold bangle around one ankle, shirtless so everyone could see just how muscled and handsome he was. He had the sort of expression that screamed he loved a good fight, that he lived his life loud and full of passion – different from Allura’s cool, collected and almost robotic countenance.  

The other Ravi echoed their prince’s look, loose cottons in whites and tans and fewer jewellery. But their eyes held the same fire their prince’s did, and Lance suddenly recalled Coran lecturing them that these were a people that ran on body language, that ran on _instinct_.  

Lance was good at body language, good at instinct. Maybe he’d enjoy himself here, get a little down time. Maybe even see if their oceans were open to him!  

The small party of locals led the Paladins through the huge iron gate that blocked the city, past guards with daggers and hard eyes, through loud marketplaces and quieter roads. In the middle of the circular city stood the palace, the tallest point of the city, glittering gold and sparkling silver dancing in the light of the setting sun.  

Lance craned his neck around as they entered, bewitched by the light streaming in through coloured glass and how _bright_ everything seemed. The Ravi made ample use of their sun, apparently, which Lance was incredibly grateful for after the darkness of space.  

Prince Raikon noticed his wandering gaze, and shot him a toothy grin, leading them all into a wide hall that glittered yellow and gold, stopping them once they stood in front of a raised dias where the obvious King and Queen sat. He and the other Ravi that had followed them (bodyguards? Lance saw no weapons, but their grave expressions spoke professionalism) raised their right fist to their heart, exposing their throats at the same time. Allura immediately moved to copy the gesture, gesturing at them to do so too, and Lance reluctantly followed, only raising his chin ever so slightly as to not come off disrespectful.  

He was a werewolf. The only person he would willingly bare his throat too was his _alpha_. And his parents. Aaand his older sister when she threw him to the ground and threatened to rip his throat out for making fun of her crush. Aaaaand Laura, who thought slamming him into walls with a grin was as good a greeting as any. _And_ Jason. Raphael. That one time Leo whooped his ass to show off the moves he'd learnt from Uncle Peter. Hell, Uncle Peter too, of course. Lance bared his throat to Uncle Peter more times than he did Aunt Talia – Uncle Peter was _terrifying_ , thank you very much, and also his _favourite_.  

But these space royalties? Hell no. Lance hadn't even bared his throat to _Allura_.  

"Your Majesties," Allura began, standing tall and proud. "I am Princess Allura of Altea, and I thank you for this audience. We as Voltron would be honoured to have you as esteemed allies in the fight against the Galra."  

“I am King Zar, and this is my Queen Vekarya.” The King introduced them, his wife nodding her head in greeting. “We welcome you to the heart of our home, our majestic capitol of Luci! We had not expected you to arrive so quickly, and as such cannot begin the no doubt complex talks today as we have council meetings to attend too. I must apologise for this, truly, but perhaps you’ll be willing to stay the night, and begin afresh anew in the coming morn?”  

They'd all been prepared for that – their last mission had finished quicker than they'd thought, and as such they'd arrived here earlier than planned, which meant their hosts would not have been prepared for them. Allura agreed politely, which led to the king ordering his son to show them to the rooms they’d be staying in for the night.   

“We’ve prepared you three rooms, each with two beds,” the Prince announced, flourishing a hand at three doors that stretched across a long, well lit hallway.  “Of course we can prepare more if it would please you?”  

“That will not be necessary,” Allura answered the implied offer. “We thank you greatly for this hospitality, Prince Raikon.”  

“Nonsense!” Raikon waved dismissively, “Providing for our guests is the least we can do! We’re all allies here, after all. If you require any other aid, simply ring the bell by your door, and someone will come to you. I won’t take up anymore of your time, then. Until tomorrow, Paladins, Princess.”  

With that he left, and it didn’t take long for the rest of them to figure out their sleeping arrangements. Hunk and Lance took the room to the furthest, Pidge and Allura in the middle, while Shiro and Keith took the last room.  

“Wouldn’t it have been better if we partnered up with the other guys?” Hunk frowned as they took in their room and chose their beds. "Y'know, since we're both long range guys and they're short range? Balance it out in case we have to fight?"  

Oh, cool, so Lance _wasn't_ the only one who'd been thinking the same. Shrugging, unperturbed, Lance plopped down onto the bed, enjoying how he bounced slightly on the soft mattress. "You gonna tell Shiro that?" Hunk immediately pulled a face, cringing at the mere idea of it which made Lance snicker. "Yeah, thought so. Besides," he pointed out reasonably, "None of us would've felt all too comfortable sleeping with the other."  

Hunk frowned at that as he sat down on his own bed far more carefully than Lance had. "But, like, that's not cool, dude. We're a team, right? Shouldn't we be, I dunno, comfortable with each other? Especially since we're piloting Voltron 'n all." 

"Eh," Lance shrugged, flopping down onto the bed and staring up at the ceiling. "We were a team back at the Garrison with Pidge, remember? And yet neither of us even _knew_ she was a _girl_. Being a team doesn't necessarily mean being–" _pack_ , he almost said, "– _friends_ or anything. Shiro and Keith have history, just like you and I were friends before we were all assigned together with Pidge. We're a team of convenience, not really a team that came together because we _wanted_ to. Hell, didn't Pidge try to _leave_ back on Arus?" 

"Huh," Hunk replied thoughtfully, rifling through the sleep clothes the Ravi had provided them with. "Guess I never thought of it that way." He threw some items over to Lance, grinning when one of them hit him in the face and caused him to squawk. "Dude, I don't think I've told you this before, but I'm glad I'm here with you. It'd be hell if I was here alone." 

Warmth burst through the tentative pack bond, heating Lance from the inside out, chasing away the melancholy brought on from thinking about the team's fragile state. He grinned underneath the shirt over his face, cheeks almost hurting from the sheer _joy_ Hunk's words had inspired in him, but made damn sure Hunk heard him back when he said, "I think the exact same thing every day, big guy. Every freaking day." 

"Aaaw," Hunk simpered, playing it up as he stood with the clothes. "That's it, I need a hug. Haven't had my hug of the day quota filled yet." 

Still grinning, Lance raised his long legs and jumped into a standing position, forever grateful for whatever family had raised Hunk to be so tactile. "Yes! Hunk hugs!" He laughed, accepting the warm hug Hunk wrapped him in. "I demand you fill your quota with me. I _deserve_ it." 

"You do," hummed the yellow paladin, squeezing him closer, "Don't think I haven't noticed you holding back whenever Keith annoys you." 

His grin softened, turning into a small, genuine smile as he decided not to reply, decided not to explain that Keith probably wouldn't have bothered him so much if he didn't come off as so _challenging_. The mere fact that Hunk had noticed, had noticed how much Lance _held back,_ and had _acknowledged it_ , that alone made it all worth it. 

In the warm confines of the hug, Lance decided that he could do this. He could handle space and the pack bond with even his alpha faint and barely there. He'd handled the Garrison, after all! He had his entire family aware that he was alive – most likely thinking he'd been taken by some hunters and was being kept alive to torture, sure, but alive nonetheless. They'd just have to wait longer, until they took down Zarkon and the Galra Empire. 

They'd totally forgive him for it, he knew. They were nice like that. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> d) english isn't my first (or second) language, e) it really isn't but that's just a blanket excuse for how bad this is i speak english fluently okay i'm sorry, g) somebody write better fic where lance is a wolf, kthnxbai, and x) i don't know when i'll update since i _just_ started midterms (which begs the question why on earth am i posting this now, ikr??) but i swear i'll finish this even if i have to listen to gasolina on eternal repeat, _mark my words_.


	2. rising tide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) you guys are amazing! thank you so much for the wonderful response you've given me! and thank you to those that wished me luck on my midterms! hope you enjoy this chapter, my bros. 2) also, timeline: this entire fic is set after Ulaz's brief stint on screen, but before they actually visit the Blade of Marmora headquarters.

Lance woke up gasping. 

Beside him, in the darkness of the room, Hunk snored, still asleep. Panting harshly, Lance threw the blankets away and scrambled off the bed, eyes wide and darting around searching for whatever had startled him from his dreams. At one wall was a huge window – all glass and no curtains – allowing the bright silvery glow of a full moon to light up the room. Above Hunk's bed, spanning a good portion of the wall, was a long, horizontal mirror, one that grabbed Lance's attention and held it. 

His eyes, he noted dimly, were glowing amber. 

Shuddering in his skin, Lance stumbled towards the window, wanting more light to see by, to inspect his skin and get rid of the ants climbing underneath them. Quiznack, he hadn’t felt like this in _ages_ , he realised, peering out of the window for any sign of trouble, aided by the moonlight. Not since the last full moon he’d had back on earth, but that was- 

-wait. 

The full moon? 

 _The full moon!_  

Gaping, Lance stared up at the visibly full moon, at the way it's sheer size took up almost half of the sky, looming right above him. It was free from any obstruction – no towers tall enough to block it, no skyscrapers, or even trees, like back home on Earth – and maybe that was why, maybe it's sheer size and _presence_ was why, but Lance could- he could- 

-he could _feel it_. 

But that didn't make sense; how many countless moons had he flown by, both in the castle and in Blue? How many planets had they landed on with a moon, or even multiple moons, caught in it's orbit? He hadn't felt a single thing throughout all that time, not since he'd left Earth, what, _months_ ago? How many full moons had he missed since then? Countless, maybe, so why this? Why this moon? Why could he feel it _calling_ to him, tugging at his core, the pads of his fingers _aching_ to be set free? 

Holy _quiznack_ had he missed this sensation. 

Something beckoned him forward- oh, who was he kidding, the _full moon_ beckoned him forward, and Lance- Lance slid the window open, carefully, glancing back at the soft _shhhtiick_ it made to make sure Hunk hadn't woken up. Once it was open wide enough and he'd heard Hunk snore on, he climbed out, in his nightclothes and all, and carefully slid the window shut again once he was on the other side. 

The floor they were on was high – maybe three storeys high, or four at most – but that didn't bother him at all as he let his fingers bleed into claws and scaled down the palace wall. He dropped the last few feet, landing with a small displacement of air on the palace grounds easily, and perked up. There, right in front of him, as if ordained by some benevolent deity that was looking out for him, the moon's light lit up a beautiful path that snaked away in front of him; Dorothy's yellow bricked road to Oz. 

Lance followed it, pulled by the moon, emboldened by his instincts, emboldened by his pack bonds seemingly at their strongest, pulsating at his very core _,_ so very _alive_. They were almost strong enough to feel _emotions,_ but just not _quite_. He followed the winding path, enjoying the cool breeze, the complete and utter silence that came with it being the dead of night. 

The path led him towards an iron gate, the metal twisted into beautiful patterns that almost sparkled in the light of the moon. It opened up easily to him, swinging without a noise, letting him walk through it, only to take a startled step back when a familiar _roar_ rushed over him. 

The ocean. 

He'd seen it, back in space, when they'd been on the control deck and closing in to Ravera. He'd thought about it, hoped that the water would be friendly to human countenance and that he'd be able to swim in it. But- he hadn't _actually_ thought about it. He'd been preparing himself for disappointment, for Coran sadly telling him that the ocean was too acidic for him, or had creatures that wouldn't take too kindly to him invading, _but here it was_. He could _see it_ , its surface glittering in the light of the moon, the roar of waves languidly hitting each other, washing up to the quiet, small beach that must have made up the palace's back yard. 

The ebb and flow was almost enough to drive him _mad;_ the familiarity of the beach, the ocean, _and_ the full moon filling him with nostalgia, with a sense of peace and _belonging_ he'd been missing for _so long_. Only one thing was missing but he could ignore it, could close his eyes and pretend his pack were right behind him, could pretend this was just another full moon with them thanks to the bond they shared warming him up from the inside like a tiny supernova. 

The moon sang to him, the ocean _roared_ for him, both beckoning him closer, welcoming and familiar, a truth he'd always known finding him once again at the other side of the galaxy. 

And Lance? Lance threw his head back and did something he hadn't done in ages, hadn't done since he was fifteen years old and reading his acceptance letter. Hadn't done since the last time he'd had the ocean and the full moon as his witness. 

He _howled_. 

 _Quiznak_ , did that feel good. 

# 

It was at breakfast the next morning that Pidge peered up at him through her round spectacles, suspicious curiosity colouring her words as she said, “You look happy. Slept well last night?” 

Lance beamed at the smaller paladin, shoulders loose and relaxed as he picked at the breakfast spread in front of him hungrily. “Like a baby.” He answered cheerily, full of good cheer and _rejuvenated_ , like always after a full moon. “You?” 

The others murmured their assent, everyone busy waking up and choosing their own breakfast food. Lance hummed happily to himself, full of energy and fidgeting slightly in his chair, but was more than happy to eat twice his weight to make up for just how much he’d spent himself last night in the ocean. It was a good thing he’d had enough foresight to take off his sleep clothes before diving in, otherwise he’d have had an awkward morning trying to explain to Hunk just why exactly his alien pyjamas were soaked wet. 

It was towards the tail end of their breakfast that the prince swooped in, announced by the jingling of his now gold jewellery and a lone, surly bodyguard that dogged his steps. They were both barefooted as usual, Lance noted as he drank something that tasted like apple juice, but only the prince wore jewellery. So the bodyguard wasn’t high ranked then, maybe. Or maybe Lance was looking into it too much and the jewellery meant nothing. 

“Guests!” The prince greeted them all, “I hope you slept well last night. If you are finished,” he continued towards Allura, “Then know that the King and Queen are ready to attend to the matter at hand. They are in the throne room.” 

He clapped his hands twice, the loud noise echoing in the dining room they were in, and another Ravi – equally bronzed by the sun – came bouncing in with a wide, toothy grin. “Preva will lead the way and be your guide for the remainder of your stay.” The prince explained, waving an introductory hand at the newcomer. “Don’t let her short stature and bright eyes fool you – she is one ofour three commanders in the Royal Guard.” 

Preva gave a casual bow, sloppy and more intended for humour than professionalism, and played dumb at the exasperated look the prince gave her. Lance liked her already. 

“We thank you greatly, Prince Raikon.” Allura replied, dabbing a napkin around her mouth primly. “We shall not keep the King and Queen waiting, of course. They have an entire Kingdom to rule, after all. Come, Paladins.” 

Grabbing an extra handful of what Lance had found to essentially be muffins, he stood up with the rest of the Paladins, ignoring the disapproving glance Shiro threw his way. Sure, he’d eaten enough to make up for the calorie usage last night, but _still_ , he’d be vaguely peckish for the next day or so. After moon care was _important_ , damn it. 

Just to be nice though, Lance gave Hunk and Pidge one of the space muffins. They grinned thankfully at him. He thought long and hard about it for a moment before offering Keith one as well, but – lo and behold – the mullet ignored him. 

Only Hunk’s steadying hand on his shoulder kept him from _lunging_ at him. 

“Actually,” the prince spoke up, running a distracted hand through his long, dark locks, “I, of all people, know how boring those meetings can get, so I’d thought to take the rest of the Paladins on a tour of Luci. The weather today is delightful, and I am not above using your Paladins as an excuse to be able to get out of my own duties and enjoy it.” He grinned. 

Allura’s face did a funny little thing at that, something Lance could only catch the faintest hint of disapproval in. But she knew the game here – the prince had requested (which was diplomacy for _demanded_ ) the Paladins, and Allura had no real reason to refuse. 

Lance shared a look with Hunk, and then shared another muffin when the big guy glanced down at his stolen goods and glanced forlornly at the table that had been cleared of all the breakfast food. 

“Of course,” the princess agreed with a plastic smile. “I’m sure they too wish to see your city. Shiro, as the Black Paladin, will of course join us, however. Isn’t that right, Shiro?” 

Basic common sense dictated he should agree with the princess – if for no other reason than to not leave her alone on possible enemy grounds. From the grimace on Shiro’s face it was obvious he knew it too, which meant leaving the four of them to fend for themselves in the presence of the prince. 

Lance could see Shiro didn’t like that idea, but he couldn’t quite tell for what reason. Did he not think they could handle themselves diplomatically with the prince? Or did he think they couldn’t handle themselves _with each other_? _Sure_ , the idea of having to stick with Keith would’ve made Lance want to tear out someone’s throat yesterday, but he was totally chill today, a hundred percent in control, refuelled and rejuvenated by the full moon’s mystical power. He could totally handle it. 

“Of course, Princess.” Shiro answered, giving them all a hard look that screamed at them to _behave_. Lance snapped a snazzy salute, which only seemed to worry Shiro further, but to his surprise Preva grinned and imitated him with her own salute, which, in turn, made the _prince_ look worried. 

They bid their farewells then, promising to return to the dining room once the sun began to set, and set off in their given directions. The prince led the way for them, his bodyguard no less than a step behind him, and it didn’t take long to leave the palace grounds into the city proper. 

“Perhaps I should’ve pulled Vanya from newbie training to accompany the princess instead of Preva,” the prince mused, waving off an attendant that began to rush towards them. “Oh well, far too late now.” 

“You said Preva was one of three commanders?” Pidge spoke up, always the most curious and bold out of them. “Is this Vanya person one too?” 

The prince shot a pleased grin back at them, focusing on Pidge as he enthusiastically answered, “Yes! The third commander would be Kalder, though you’re unlikely to see him as he favours doing his duties at night. They are the three commanders of our Royal Guard, our strongest warriors, and the pride of our people.” 

“Three’s not much.” Keith scoffed under his breath, sounding unimpressed. Lance coughed loudly to cover it up, pretending to choke on something, but the damage was already done. 

The bodyguard stiffened, spinning on his bare feet to face Keith and the rest of them with an angry snarl. “More than enough for a weakling like _you_ , Red.” He growled, taking a step closer. 

And Keith, bless his violent little heart, _mirrored him_ , taking a step towards the bodyguard with his own snarl. “ _What_ did you call me?” 

The prince growled – an honest to God _growl_ – making Lance’s own vocal cords want to emulate the noise and _growl back_. But it had its intended effect; the bodyguard stilled, slipping back to his previous position with an apologetic tilt to his head, and _bared_ his throat to his prince. Pidge was shoving Keith back by his stomach – too short to really reach his shoulders – while Hunk whispered frantically at him to _calm down._  

Taking a pointed step forward, Lance slotted himself in front of the others, sliding in as easily as breathing despite the thick tension in the air. It wasn’t helping him keep his happy buzz from last night's excursion, but if he let this carry on, _nothing_ would help him keep it. 

“So!” He loudly cut through, smiling widely at the prince in an obvious bid to smooth over the jagged ends between them. “It’s been driving me mad, but is the jewellery a rank thing? Or just a personal taste? I think I’d look nice with an anklet of my own, maybe.” 

The prince flashed his sharp teeth at his guard in warning, shoulders still tense, but – to Lance's eternal thanks – turned to him with equally forced cheer. "Yes! It is a sign of combat prowess, to wear jewellery when they may get in the way of fighting for one's life. The more jewellery one has, the more confident they are in their ability to take their enemy down without breaking a bead." 

"Prince Raikon has never been beaten in battle," the bodyguard proudly stated, his chiselled, _bare_ chest puffed out and shining in the morning sun. "As such, he wears the most jewellery in the entire kingdom." 

"Well, I wouldn't say _never_ ," the prince humbly demurred, shooting his bodyguard a fond yet warning look. "Don't embarrass me so, Tarvo." 

Pidge, sweet, gloriously curious Pidge, shoved forward and into Lance with a curious, "Does the  placement and type of jewellery mean anything specific?" 

The forced expression lessened, in degrees, as Hunk equally pushed forward and Lance grumbled as he was squished between the two. His complaints were just for show though, and both must have sensed it since they paid him no heed. 

"The ankle bracelets," the prince pointed out with a theatrical hand swish, "Mean I once fought a berserker in honourable battle and came out the victor. I am the only one of my people to have done so." 

"A berserker?" Hunk asked worriedly, not liking the sound of that. "Are there... a lot of those?" 

Laughing, the prince shook his head. "Nay. It is not easy to become one, and as far as I'm aware she was the last undocumented one. They are something similar to Zarkon in terms of combat prowess, feared as the perfect predator. It was not a simple feat to take her down. Just as it will not be a simple feat to take _Zarkon_ down." 

"We can do it," Keith spoke up from behind, confidence in every word, "It's only a matter of time." 

"A matter of time," the bodyguard, Tarvo, repeated incredulously. "The man has controlled the entire known universe for _thousands of years_. My Prince!" He scowled, turning to his superior. "I cannot hold my tongue no longer. These _paladins_ ," he spat out, "are _tiny_ -" well, he wasn't technically wrong about that when compared to them, "-how are they of worth to us? The Ravi? Surely this Voltron is but a mere _scam_. If the weapon of myth existed, why would it have remained unused for ten thousand years? _They_ -" he punctuated with a flung arm at them, "-are nothing but conmen." 

"Now that's not fair-" Lance started brightly, hoping to diffuse the quickly growing tension, but Keith – _Quiznack,_ the guy had a _death wish_ , did he not see the bodyguard's _chest_? – all but threw himself forward, trying to shove through the three of them that stood in front, only to be held back by Hunk's strong arms and Pidge all but wrapping herself around his midsection. Lance shoved back with his broader shoulders, firmly holding his ground with relative ease thanks to Hunk and Pidge. 

"See," he picked up again, voice purposely casual even as he stared the bodyguard in the eyes, "You said that the berserker was the perfect predator, didn't you? Just as dangerous as Zarkon." 

The prince, recognising that the words were directed at him, agreed carefully. "Perhaps not quite," he humbly corrected, though Lance couldn't see as he kept his focus on the bodyguard. "If so, Zarkon may not have reigned for so long." 

Behind him, the struggling lessened incrementally, until Lance wasn't leaning back so much to counteract the force trying to push forward. Maybe this was why Shiro had looked so conflicted on letting them go – maybe even he'd noticed that Keith had been acting erratic since Ulaz and the whole possibility of rebel Galra’s. Lance didn’t know _why_ such a thing would make Keith all but lose his shit, but if it endangered this mission to make more allies? Lance was going to have _words_ with Coran, the only pack elder that would actually listen to Lance and take him seriously. 

Correction: the only _team_ elder that would actually listen to him and take him seriously. 

"Wow, that’s actually real interesting," he replied, unaware of how he instinctively leaned forward into the bodyguard’s space, how said body tensed further, body thrumming at the implied threat. "Maybe we should all get some, then, since we're the Paladins of Voltron 'n all. I think Keith especially would look lovely in some gold." 

He reached back without looking, hand unerringly finding the hard shoulder of his _infuriating_ teammate, and gripped it with a harsh, warning squeeze to stop any possibility of him speaking. "He once fought Zarkon on equal grounds, y'know.” He carried on, voice lowered as if he was giving away some juicy gossip. “Held his own, even got a compliment or two from the self-proclaimed lord of the universe. How much jewellery would that warrant... Tarvo, was it?" 

Tarvo stared him down, and Lance – remembering Coran's words, remembering the way the prince had _growled_ and throats had been bared – let a little bit of the woven supernatural inside him _breath_. The Ravi – a good foot taller than him and broader than a brickhouse – cringed and took a hurried step back, grey steel eyes darting away to break the connection. He took a step behind his prince – _hiding behind his prince –_ and kept his gaze lowered, backing down in everything but words. 

 _Triumph_ roared through Lance's veins at the obvious submission. It might not have been a throat bared for him, no, but Lance wasn't this man's alpha, Lance wasn't _trying_ to be this man's alpha, and didn't need a bared throat, all he'd needed was for _Tarvo_ to _back down_. And he had. He let himself enjoy the feeling, let it remind him of who he was for just a moment before he tamped it down, back to the tightly knit control he kept up to stay the fleshy little human everyone thought he was. 

Letting go of Keith, Lance rolled his shoulders to get rid of the tension, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet as he spun to the prince, smiling guilelessly at the green eyes that glanced between him and Tarvo. The prince turned his appraising look onto Lance, taking him in as if seeing him for the first time, and after a moment's pregnant pause, his lips curled up into a slow, impressed smile. 

"I believe the Red Paladin's impressive feat would warrant him _much_ jewellery," he answered in place of his bodyguard, a lone dark eyebrow cocking upwards in humour at Lance, "And please, call me Raikon." 

Lance's grin grew and turned more genuine – how could it not, when the prince looked actually _impressed_ by him and he'd diffused the situation and kept them in good standing? He slowly, making sure to telegraph his every move, extended his hand out, fingers extended, and faltered for just a moment when the prince – no, Raikon – took his forearm and gripped it tight rather than the handshake Lance had intended. Quickly adapting, Lance gripped the Ravi's forearm in return, filing away the greeting method for future references as he replied, "Nice to meet you, Raikon. I'm Lance." 

"An honour indeed, Lance," said Raikon as they let go. "The Paladins of Voltron live up to their legends. But enough of that!" He clapped his hands, shocking the air around them into more neutral terms, and jovially continued, "Come! The tour of Luci! And such a tour should begin at the very jewel of our kingdom; the ocean!" 

Lance _buzzed_ in his shoes, ignoring how a tiny mental voice told him he shouldn't be so excited, he'd already _been_ , had had the ocean all to himself just hours prior. He didn't care though, the ocean was _amazing_ , and if Raikon considered it the jewel of their entire _kingdom_ , then Lance just knew he was going to get along _swimmingly_ with the Ravi's prince. 

As they fell into place and followed the prince's lead, Hunk pulled up to Lance's shoulder and gently knocked their shoulders together in greeting, voice low as he said, "Not that I'm not thankful, dude, but, uh, what just happened?" 

Pidge squirmed in to Lance's other side, the two bracketing him once more, Keith trailing beside her. "Yeah, did- did _Lance_ just _intimidate_ someone?" 

"I could've handled him myself," Keith grumbled, scuffing his shoes against the red bricked pavement. 

Lance shot him a scathing glare, easy to do so over Pidge's head, and in the same lowered voice harshly whispered, "We're here to make allies, Mullet, not fight! Look," he said, trying to rein back his irritation, "Just remember what Coran said – they run on instinct, you saw how they bare their throats. Just- just don't act submissive, but also don't be _aggressive_. You're Paladins of Voltron, _we're_ Paladins of Voltron," he corrected quickly, even if sometimes he wondered what good his presence here even did, "We're equal to their royalty – not dominant, not submissive, but _equal –_ so _act like it. Keith._ " 

Hunk and Pidge agreed, even if their eyebrows were raised in surprise for some reason. Was it really so strange that Lance was saying this? _Sure_ , he joked around a lot and didn't exactly have a _thing_ besides being a werewolf (and that was something absolutely no one needed to know about, thank you very much), but _still_. 

"Let's just," he sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair, "Let's just enjoy the tour, keep playing nice, and survive until lunch or dinner, alright guys?" 

"I'm not going to say no to the ocean," Hunk agreed with a soft grin, "Especially if we can swim." 

"I'd like to figure out just what their technological prowess is like myself," Pidge explained, nodding her head in agreement, "I don't see anything electronic and yet they obviously have the ability to light their rooms at night and build palaces." 

Keith kept quiet, frown on his face. At Lance's side glare though, he exhaled a heavy sigh and shrugged in acquiescence, willing to play along for now. Frankly, that was all Lance needed. 

Taking a deep breath, Lance plastered the smile back on his face, launching into questions at the willing prince to keep the mood up. They could do this, he thought to himself, at least until they'd reconvened with the rest of their missing teammates. Maybe then Shiro would trust them a little more, would trust _him_ a little more. 

One could hope. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3) constructive criticism is welcomed! 6) anything and everything is welcomed! 19) exclamation marks!!!!


	3. pack dynamics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i) _50 years. 50 long years have passed. but. i do not age--_ I'M SORRY IT'S TAKEN SO LONG FORGIVE ME. ii) guess who's close to finishing the last finals of her uni career? this gal. iii) guess who's warning you that allura's a dick here but cool your jets she'll cool hers soon enough??? this gal. iv) guess who's telling you hunk is the best and deserves awards???? THIS GAL. v) _guess who wrote just shy of 8k and updated it all for you?????_ **THIS--**

"And you did _what?_ "

"That's exactly what father said!" Raikon laughed, expressive hands waving around as he told the story. "But the dignitary from Laika was _right there_ so all he could do was congratulate me!"

Behind them, following in their footsteps, Hunk and Pidge were in deep conversation with Tarvo, who'd loosened up somewhere around water fight one and fifteen, but Keith looked more interested in Lance and Raikon's conversation. No doubt because-

-"You took two of your three commanders, infiltrated an incoming Galra battleship even though your dad – the _king –_ had already told you not to, blew it from the inside out, and rode all the way back to the castle in a stolen Galra flight pod completely naked?"

_Definitely_ something Keith would be interested in.

The Prince just laughed again, completely unashamed as he and Lance led their small entourage towards the Paladins' designated staying area. "Well, it worked, did it not?" Raikon dismissed with a hand wave, shooting Lance a scheming look as he added in a fake whisper, "The dignitary was most impressed and willing to become a part of our kingdom with much less bartering!"

"Not the point!" Lance threw his hands in the air incredulously, "You were naked! How did you even end up naked in a Galra battleship? You're exaggerating!"

"I am _not_ ," Raikon gasped theatrically, hand to chest. "I tell nothing but the complete truth!"

Lance scoffed at that, noticing that the sun had truly begun to set from a wide window they passed on their way to their rooms. Barely visible against the slowly fading sunrays, the faint outline of the still full moon was visible, already beginning to loom over the capital’s horizon. Apparently, this planet _always_ had full moons, and ran entirely on a lunar based calendar than a solar one. Maybe that was the reason why Lance’s instincts were at the forefront, why he felt so much more in tune with the people around him.

But seriously, he was _starving_. They'd had lunch at a neat little café that had served _far_ too much meat, but no dinner yet. He was hoping they'd eat soon, maybe with Shiro and Allura if they were finished with their meetings. "I'm asking Preva," he retorted at the prince, folding his arms across his chest.

"-Asking me what?"

Speaking of Shiro and Allura, Lance brightened up as he saw them up ahead, the shorter Ravi that was Commander Preva peering at them with raised eyebrows. She took one look at Raikon's face and rolled her eyes, grumbling under her breath before she said, "It's true, unfortunately. I was hoping we'd never speak of that disastrous mission again."

"But Preva~?" Raikon purred, suddenly prowling closer to the woman. "I for one was delighted to get to... _know_ you better."

The female Ravi fake gagged, playing it up to take any sting from it. Raikon just laughed, predatory vibe disappearing entirely from his body language like smoke, and gave a much more professional nod of greeting to Allura and Shiro.

"Alas," he said, spinning on his still bare feet to Lance and the others. "This is where I shall bid you all goodnight. I thank you all for entertaining this bored prince today, it was much needed. Lance," he held out his hand, fingers outstretched, and Lance stepped closer to mirror his greeting from before, hands gripping forearms in goodbye. He noticed Preva's eyebrows rise at the action, seemingly reading something into it that Lance couldn't see, but she said nothing.

Hunk and Pidge said their own goodbyes, verbally as neither Ravi offered their arms, and Keith gave a polite nod that both Ravi's echoed.

As soon as all three Ravi were out of view and earshot, Allura gestured at the bedroom she and Pidge shared, gesturing them all to enter. Sharing a curious look with Hunk and Pidge, Lance followed the unspoken order and closed the door when Keith entered last, leaning against the door rather than find anywhere else to stand.

"Pidge, scan the room for any possible recording device." Allura demanded, moving to stand in front of the window that mirrored Lance's room.

Eyebrows raised, Pidge moved to do just that, tap tapping at whatever device she'd installed into her arm guard for a few moments. A beam of light shot out a second later, and it slowly scanned the room from top to bottom before disappearing just as quickly as it had come.

“Nothing,” Pidge announced, eyes taking in whatever data was scrolling across her holoscreen. “No sign of any cameras or microphones, princess.”

Allura responded with a firm nod to show she’d heard, and then – to everyone's shock and surprise – spun in place and punched a hole in a wall.

Shocked, Shiro tried, “Allura-”

“No, Shiro!” She angrily rebuked, slicing a hand through the air to cut him off. “You heard what they said back there. They do not believe us _capable_ ,” she hissed, anger present in every line if her body as she began to pace, “They think everything we’ve done up to this point are merely exaggerated rumours! ‘ _War propaganda_ ,’ he said! Aargh!”

"Wait," Hunk slowly began, "What exactly happened? The talks didn't go well?"

"They didn't go at all!" Allura shot back in frustration, still pacing. "The Ravi do not trust that we are _capable_ as Voltron, and want us to prove ourselves before they ally with us! They do not want a-" she pulled a face as she came to a halt, the next words obviously a direct imitation, "a _weak ally_."

"It's a bit more complicated than that," Shiro spoke up, taking a seat in one of the two chairs in the room. "It's... well, the meeting had been going well at first; the king was receptive and open to an alliance, but it turns out some of the council members..."

Didn't trust they were _actually_ Voltron, apparently.

It seemed the disbelief Tarvo the bodyguard had mentioned before was shared by more than just himself. The council of Ravi had been split clean as to those that believed, and those that were more suspicious, or just outright dismissive, of them. Lance could understand their reasoning, once Shiro explained what some of the council members had pointed out – specifically, where had Voltron been for the past ten thousand years? Who were these so called 'humans'? How did they know that Allura truly was the long thought dead princess of Altea? That the lions truly were Voltron and not just some impressive mimicry?

"But what about all the Galra we've defeated?" Pidge asked incredulously, pushing her glasses up with the heel of her hand. "What about the planets we've freed? Like the Balmera, or the Olkari?"

Shiro ran a hand down his face as he sighed, looking world weary and tired because of it. “They… They acknowledged that they’ve heard about those planets, knew about the battles we’d fought, but another mentioned how none of it had been _verified_ , how they didn’t really know if any of the battles had actually happened or if we’d freed any of the actual people we’ve claimed to have freed. It pretty much just turned into a squabble after that. None of them were willing to listen to us, too busy arguing amongst each other, until the Queen finally shut them up.”

A grimace tugged his lips down at the memory, explaining the way the Queen had silenced her council as, “Weird. She didn’t even have to speak loud to grab their attention, just in a normal voice and-” he snapped his fingers, the sound loud in the relative silence of the room, “-just like that, quiet.”

“And what did she say to all this?” It was Lance’s turn to ask, worried by the frown still on Shiro’s face.

Allura interrupted before he could answer, throwing her hands in the air as she hissed, “She said that she had _considered_ the advice of her small council members, and found _truth_ in them and so _naturally_ the members of Voltron would want to prove themselves to settle any doubts, right? Because of course we would! She knows we would have to if they were to see us as a force to be allied with!” The princess scowled, starting up the pacing again, Keith shrinking back when she drew too close.

Wait- _shrinking_? Lance furrowed his eyebrows at the action, squinting his eyes in confusion at the red paladin as Allura carried on pacing without noticing. Why would Keith flinch from her? That… That didn’t make sense. He pulled his focus away from him as Allura spoke up again, filing the information somewhere in the back of his head for later thought.

“We don’t have any other choice,” Lance tuned in, concentrating back on Allura just in time to see her pull at one of the bangs that artfully framed her face in agitation. “The Ravi have held their own against Zarkon for _ten thousand years_ , we _need_ to know how they’ve done it, what sort of technology they have to have made the Galra consider them a lost cause. We can’t just drop this alliance, despite the sheer _nerve_ of them, so now we must prove ourselves!”

“They want us to deal with some criminals that’ve caused them some grief lately,” Shiro picked up, smoothly taking over when Allura looked like she wouldn’t continue. “They kinda cornered me into it, playing up how I was the black paladin and so the leader of Voltron. I’m free to take another paladin, _of course_.” He said, the words sounding like a close imitation of someone rather than his own. “Keith, you’ll come with me.” He nodded at the red paladin, who determinedly nodded back. “We leave tomorrow with a small party led by one of their commanders. Shouldn’t be too much trouble.”

_Of course_ Shiro would choose Keith, Lance thought bitterly as he crossed his arms over his chest, trying futilely to hide the way his fingers curled in resentment. When the hell did he ever not choose Keith? Beside him, Hunk frowned disapprovingly, his own much stronger arms folding over his chest in silent imitation of Lance.

“Don’t you think Lance or I should go with you, Shiro?” The yellow paladin frowned, surprising Lance at the audible criticism in his voice, echoing the criticism he’d had the night before. “You and Keith are close combat fighters,” he explained seriously, “Lance and I are long-range. It’d be better if one of us went with you instead of Keith so you could fight while having someone watch your back.”

Either Shiro didn’t hear the underlying reproach, or he purposely ignored it, dismissing Hunk with a fond but certain, “Keith can watch my back, right buddy?”

“Definitely.” Keith responded immediately, looking pleased by Shiro’s trust.

Before Hunk could say anything again, Allura interrupted with a pointed, “Now that that’s settled and we’re all caught up, everyone should go to sleep, especially you two,” she said, eyes on Shiro and Keith. “You have a busy day ahead of you. The rest of you shall join me tomorrow as I continue the talks with the Ravi. Pidge, I want you to befriend one of the council members – don’t worry, I’ll show you which – I believe they are the head of the kingdom’s technical advancements.” Pidge quickly nodded, to which Allura looked satisfied. “Excellent. That’ll be all, paladins. Dismissed.”

By his side, Hunk huffed in annoyance, that stubborn set to his eyebrows ringing all the warning bells in Lance’s head as Shiro and Keith quietly began trading words, heads close and intimate. Lance reached out for the yellow paladin’s elbow, grasping it gently and shaking his head when Hunk glanced at him. For a moment, he was worried Hunk would push on – the big guy sometimes got like this, when he genuinely believed in something, like the whole Balmera incident – but this time, thankfully, Hunk just pulled a face at him in acquiescence and let it go.

Quirking his lips a little in thanks, Lance loudly began saying his goodbyes as he hustled Hunk towards the door, Shiro and Keith having already left to their own bedroom. But as Hunk went through, Allura caught Lance’s attention with a pointed, “Oh, and Lance…”

Eyebrows hitching up in question, Lance turned around towards the princess.

She was frowning at him, pale eyebrows furrowed together in clear displeasure. “Do stop your incessant flirting with the prince.” She scolded him sternly. “I do not need you jeopardising this mission anymore than it already is.”

Wait. _What?_

Shocked, Lance opened his mouth instinctively to defend himself, momentarily getting distracted when Hunk called for him to hurry up. By the time he turned back to Allura, she’d already twisted away, a clear dismissal if Lance had ever seen one. The door shut before he knew what to do, still reeling from her rebuke, mouth snapping shut almost as an afterthought. He found himself staring at the shut door, eyebrows raised, mind trying to catch up to whatever the hell Allura could have been talking about. Flirting? Him? With _who_?

After a moment – and another call of his name from a quickly worrying Hunk – Lance stepped back, literally and figuratively taking a step away from the situation. He didn’t know what the hell that was, what the hell Allura could have meant – had she meant with the prince? He hadn’t been _flirting_ , damn it, he’d been doing everything in his power to stay on friendly terms, why was she blaming the Ravi’s aloofness on _him_?

_Just ignore it,_ he told himself. _She’s really stressed out_ , he consoled, turning to hurry after Hunk to their bedroom. It’ll be forgotten by morning.

At least, he hoped so.

#

Come dawn, Allura wasted no time unleashing Pidge onto the unsuspecting council member, and Lance found himself alone as Hunk struck up conversation with a mountain of a Ravi who laughed like thunder. Awkwardly leaning against a wall, Lance took a sip of whatever fruity juice was in his cup, trying to stay out of the way in case Allura thought he was _flirting_ again.

Grumbling a little under his breath, Lance amused himself with people watching, picking out the council members that looked suspicious as to the ones that seemed genuinely interested in an alliance. Allura – who, for some reason had shifted herself taller that morning – was speaking to a stern-faced woman, both sporting grim and serious expressions.

Shiro and Keith were already gone, whisked away that morning by an exhausted looking Ravi that turned out to be Vanya, one of the three commanders the prince had previously mentioned. Allura had hustled the rest of them soon after, first to a council meeting that had droned on for god knew how long before breaking up for midday lunch. Throughout it all, she hadn’t said a single word to him, but had made her thoughts clear every time Lance so much as glanced at a Ravi with a pointed stern glare.

And for what? It wasn’t like Lance could just stay _silent_ , not when Ravi’s would constantly come up to him with questions or conversation openers, right? Did she want him to risk them thinking him as arrogant? Unapproachable? Hadn’t she lectured them only yesterday along with Coran about just how much they needed this alliance with the Ravi?

Grumbling under his breath, Lance aggressively took another sip of his drink, eyes tracking the giant hall everyone was milling around in for lunch. The prince – who’d been in a light conversation with his father, the king – had disappeared some time ago, noticing Lance as he left the hall and waving a hand in goodbye with a bright grin. Lance had waved back, because why the hell _not_ , Allura could screw herself if she really thought he was _flirting_ with the Crown Prince of a planet that could hold up against the Galra. The prince was a surprisingly cool guy, and Lance wasn’t going to let the opportunity there to foster good will go just because Allura was in just as bad a mood about the whole Blade of Marmora thing as Keith was. They could both take their weird issues and shove it up their butts.

A warning shiver interrupted his dark mood, travelling up his spine and straightening his posture out just as a figure slid in silently beside him. Lance tensed, unnerved at how close she’d gotten without him noticing, every instinct in his being screaming at him that this person was a threat. But the woman – the shortest Ravi he’d ever seen at about an inch taller than Lance himself – was a familiar face, flashing sharp, pointy teeth in greeting as she comfortably settled in beside him.

“Tell me,” Preva started in good humour, “Is being named after a weapon commonplace on your planet?”

The question surprised him so much he spluttered into his drink, realising with a start that _of course_ aliens would find that weird, why hadn’t he even thought of that before? “Don’t think so,” he answered with amusement, “Guess I’m just special like that. Does Preva mean anything specific?”

The conversation easily flowed from there, both asking questions about each other’s cultures and weird little habits (“We Ravi have a tradition of throwing our children off cliffs into the ocean, just to teach them the sensation of a near death experience. Oh no, don’t look so horrified! People are in the ocean ready to catch them, it’s totally safe!”).

Lance asked more about their ever-constant moon, and learnt that it really _was_ always full, that the Ravi venerated it and surrounded much of their mythos around it. They were a people of the moon and the ocean, lulled by the push and pull of the tides, by the silvery light that lit up their city just as well as their sun did, if not better.

He wondered if maybe that had anything to do with the way he felt; instincts shoved to the forefront, so much more difficult to hide than all the months that had already passed. He probed a little deeper, asking to hear some of the mythos she’d mentioned, which she happily did. He couldn’t understand much of what she said – whatever translation their bond with the lions had magically granted them apparently wasn’t fool proof – but Lance got the main gist of it. The moon here was similar to that of the Earth, attributed to strength and tranquillity, to the unknown that lurked in the dark that people could never quite put their finger on. Preva mentioned the berserkers again, much like her prince had, and said they were one of the unknown she’d mentioned. Strengthened by the moon. That they all were, to an extent.

Lance swam along with her enthusiastic storytelling, soothed by just how similar it was to home, to the push and pull of Blue’s connection that he felt pulse ever so stronger as soon on this planet than he ever had. Cuba was well known for its sunlight and warmth, for its summer days and burning sands, but Lance had always appreciated it more during the night, when the tourists had gone to sleep or to downtown for night time revelries, when the beach was left with the natives experienced in the treacherous nature of the seas. Cuba to him meant night time runs with his family down the private coastline the Head Alpha of Cuba had designated to the McClain’s. Cuba to him meant meeting tourist werewolves from all around the world during the day and showing them his home during the night. Cuba to him meant everything he had in Blue, companionship and warmth and the floating sensation of an embrace one could find in water.

He was really enjoying his conversation with the commander, both of them gesturing wildly as they traded stories, Lance recounting the time he and Hunk had gotten separated on an underwater planet. Preva was eating it up, oohing and aahing at all the right places, and Lance, while acting out a pivotal moment in his storytelling, glanced up and-

Allura, glaring at him.

- _froze_.

“And _what_ , Paladin?” Preva huffed at him impatiently, hands twitching like she wanted to shove him into hurrying up.

“Uuhhh,” Lance faltered, breaking the gaze with Allura for a moment to grimace apologetically at the Ravi. “How about I tell you another time? Keep you on your feet?”

“ _What_?” Preva squawked, sounding so much like a six foot four version of Pidge that it made Lance’s grimace turn into a genuine smile for a moment. “What manner of cruelty is this? You shall not- hey- Paladin come back here this instant or I’ll-!”

Lance ducked out, throwing back a salacious wink that _still wasn’t flirting_ , before turning around with a blank face. He struggled to keep his emotions under lock, to push down the burning _injustice_ that turned an innocent conversation into something sour. Allura had turned away as soon as he left, seemingly satisfied that he was no longer _flirting_ or whatever, but Lance-

Lance was just _done_.

If she wanted to jeopardise a treaty with a people that had _absolutely no reason_ to trust them because of petty pride and assumptions, then that was her prerogative. _She_ was the leader of Voltron, _she_ was the acting Alpha of this poor facsimile of a pack. Lance was sometimes sorely reminded of that, of the fact that Voltron was a monarchy and not a democracy. Sure, the same could be said of werewolves like him, but not _really_. If the head Alpha died, the power would instinctively go to the person best suited, which usually just so happened to be the next in line, anyway. But not always. And one could lose his status as leader just as easily as he’d gained it.

If anything, he sometimes wondered guiltily, Coran would have been better suited as their leader. _He’d_ been the Royal Advisor to King Alfor, the right-hand man who would have retained all that information and been able to use it appropriately.

Allura was… just a princess. And a young one at that. Lance doubted she’d ever had _any_ actual responsibility beyond acting as her title demanded of her. The fact that Alfor had had her preserved in that cryogenic chamber rather than at his side leading whatever last-ditch effort he’d done before Altea had been destroyed spoke volumes to Lance.

And then he felt even more guilty, because that meant she really _was_ young, at least young enough that her father hadn’t started training her for his inevitable demise. No doubt she was older than all of them humans, even if you took the ten thousand years of sleep out of the factor, but all that probably meant was that their rate of emotional growth was slower as well.

Plus, she’d lost her _entire_ planet, her _entire_ people, her _father_.

A year or two ago, Derek, his cousin from California, had lost his girlfriend. His first ever girlfriend, the girl he’d been planning on bringing into the fold and family. He’d changed after that; grown quieter, more serious, shoulders always up to his ears and radiating tension. Lance had never understood why, couldn’t fathom what exactly could have happened for Derek’s eyes to turn from the molten amber of a beta into the ice cold blue of someone guilty of causing death. But he’d changed. And that was just for a _girlfriend_.

Lance couldn’t fathom what it felt like to lose your entire planet.

Ducking out of the hall was easy, no one noticing him leaving except for a frazzled looking Pidge who he waved goodbye to. A quick glance back showed Preva had returned to Allura’s side, ever the dutiful guard she’d been assigned to be, and looked bored out of her mind. The hallway outside was a blast of cool air, empty and quiet after the noise that had only grown considerably louder inside the hall.

Lance walked on, deciding to head to his room to wash his face in a bid to clear his head before heading out into the city. Ravera was his kinda planet after all – everyone was sun kissed just like him, tall and extroverted, and _sure_ they were also all mostly built like brickhouses, but Lance had seen a few lean types dotted around here and there. He could easily fit in and walk around like a native, maybe get a present or two for Coran. Poor man was always stuck with guarding the castle whenever they landed somewhere.

Mind made up, Lance turned the corner that led into the Paladin’s guest wing of the palace. His ears twitched as he picked up the sound of muffled conversation up ahead, seemingly coming from an ajar door he hadn’t noticed before. As he got closer, one of the voices coalesced into a familiar baritone, the prince’s voice barking out orders that others were quick to confirm too.

Curious, Lance peeked in through the small opening, eyebrows rising at the controlled chaos inside. The room looked like some sort of central hub, glowing with the artificial light of technology that flashed too quickly in the foreign alphabet of the Ravi for Lance to understand. The aliens themselves were running left and right, most of them wearing clothing similar to the council member Allura had wanted Pidge to talk to – so… technicians, maybe? Smack down in the middle, in front of the largest floating screen in the room, Raikon was turned with his back to Lance, arm sweeping across as he pointed out where he wanted his subjects to be. A few of the Ravi looked military in nature, similar to Preva and the other soldiers Lance had learnt to spot, and in a corner, leaning up against the wall out of everyone’s way was Tarvo, arms crossed and as serious as always.

“Lance!” The prince greeted him, somehow spotting him when he turned around, waving him forward with a hand. “I haven’t been summoned back to the hall, have I?”

Lance slinked in carefully, feeling completely out of place in the hustle and bustle of the Ravera kingdom, and slid towards the prince with a headshake. “Uh, no, I just needed some fresh air. What’s happening here, if you don’t mind me asking?”

A grimace pulled at the prince’s face, distaste heavy in his voice as he answered, “A ship has just entered the range of one of our deep space probes. They’re heading this way, and should be within visual range in but a few ticks. Past history would have us believe it to be the Galra.”

The _Galra?_ Conveniently arriving after Voltron had? Had _they_ led them here?

The prince must have read the thought on his face, a small sound of understanding escaping him as he explained, “Do not fret, Paladin, they’ve known of our location for ten thousand years. It is not uncommon for them to try their hand at conquering us every few decades or so with whatever new technology they have as a test to see if they’ve reached our capabilities yet.”

Oh, good. Well, no, not _good_ , but at least Voltron wouldn’t be at fault for bringing danger right to these people’s doorsteps. But no wonder why Allura wanted the Ravi as allies so badly – they’ve kept their independence and that of their neighbouring planets safe for _ten thousand years_. Lance had already known, but it hadn’t really sunk in until that moment. He wasn’t sure _how_ exactly the Ravi kept themselves so safe, didn’t know _how_ , something to do with a planetary shield or other, but it was still ridiculously impressive.

“Sire!” a voice interrupted, cutting through Lance’s thoughts. “We have visual!” Lance bit his bottom lip as everyone in the room simultaneously turned as one towards the largest screen. Every Ravi at that point had come around to cluster around it, and odd thirty or so of them, with the prince centre and front as always. Lance stared at the screen alongside them, not understanding the scrolling text, but determined nonetheless to see just what sort of ship exactly the Galra had sent anyway. The screen flickered, text finally disappearing to give way to visuals.

Dread grew at the sight. “That’s not a _ship_ , Raikon.” Lance swallowed thickly, the pit in his stomach growing. “That’s a _fleet_. With a _battleship._ ”

“I can see,” the prince replied tersely, unearthly green eyes narrowed at the sight in front of them.

“We can use the arc,” a nearby Ravi suggested anxiously, tapping away at a smaller screen by his head, reading the scrolls of text that passed in front of his face. “It’s already fully charged and ready, sire.”

But the prince shook his head. “Not yet,” he said thoughtfully.  “They’ve never done this before, after all.” He rubbed a hand on his chin distractedly, eyes trained on the sight in from of them. “So why now? Why the confidence? I’ll have to infiltrate them as usual, then,” he decided, “To gather information. See what it is that has them so assured in their victory to send an entire fleet.”

“Wait, _you_?” Lance blurted out, surprising himself and the Ravi around them. “Why you? You’re the prince, shouldn’t you delegate this to someone else? Like Preva, maybe? Or the other commander who’s still around? Kalder, I think?”

“Absolutely not,” Raikon dismissed easily, easing the rejection with a kind smile thrown at Lance before he turned back to the holoscreen. “The King and Queen must have a commander with them at all times, and it is in our culture to honour a visiting dignitary with another. I thank you, Paladin, for your concern, but I cannot in good conscience allow such an insult as leaving my parents or the princess without a commander occur under my watch. Preva and Kalder shall stay where they are needed. I will be enough for this.”

“Surely you do not mean _alone_?” An older looking Ravi frowned in disbelief. “Vanya can be recalled, and if not you still have an entire army at your disposal, my prince, all willing and eager to fight by your side.”

Right on cue, Tarvo stepped in, having left his part of the wall when the screen turned on, and agreed with a gruff, “I would be honoured to accompany you, my lord.”

But Raikon only gave it a moment’s thought before dismissing the idea. “Unnecessary.” And then, pointedly, “Or do you all question my strength?”

The Ravi _visibly_ recoiled at that, they’re protests slipping into dead silence at their prince’s tone. The sudden hike in tension in the room had Lance _bristling_ , offended on behalf of what he realised were _betas_ at how Raikon had manipulated them into a corner where they risked challenging their Alpha’s rule. It was a dirty tactic, a low blow, and if Raikon thought _Lance_ would equally back down simply because he was the prince and Lance _should_ keep his mouth shut-

Well, then he had another thing _coming_.

“What good does strength do if you’re _completely outnumbered?_ ” Lance growled, ignoring the startled looks that spun towards him at his words. “Why not use the arc thing he mentioned?” He continued instead, gesturing at the Ravi that had mentioned it. “Take them down in one go rather than put yourself in danger.”

The Ravi glanced at each other, surprised incredulousness colouring their expression. Much to Lance’s surprise though, it was Tarvo that backed Lance up, straightening his shoulders and nodding in agreement, baring his throat in submission when Raikon turned to him. The other Ravi, seeing this, tentatively joined in, growing bolder as the seconds passed, eyes downcast as a show of submission but determined nonetheless.

Raikon frowned over his charges, a displeased noise rumbling in his throat, and turned that frown on Lance. Sharp jade eyes stared down at him, the same way they’d done when Lance had stepped in between Tarvo and Keith only the day before. This time though, Raikon didn’t look impressed, but Lance couldn’t read much in it before it disappeared entirely.

After a pointed, heavy moment, the prince finally responded with a petulant huff, rolling his eyes as he waved a hand at the large screen with the battleship and the leagues of fighter jets that slowly crept closer. “And lose the chance of knowing why they sent an _entire fleet_?” He asked, directing his words to everyone, but talking specifically to Lance. “Every other time they’ve only sent a ship or two, as some sort of test to see if their technology had yet reached ours, but now they send hundreds of ships, if not thousands, and a _battleship_. Why? Why waste a perfectly functioning battleship? I must know, for the sake of my people and any future issues that may arise from this. Destroying them in one fell swoop will not give me the answers. Infiltrating them will. And none of our soldiers have been trained in infiltration well enough to risk taking them along. Surely you understand this?”

Lance did. Lance understood perfectly, and a quiet part of him was telling him that maybe he really _should_ keep quiet, that maybe this had nothing to do with him, that if the prince wanted to pull a Keith and get himself captured or even worse, it was none of Lance’s business. But he _liked_ Raikon, despite the asshole move he’d just pulled. He _liked_ the Ravi, and the way he was growing to learn their pack dynamics and just how similar they were to _home_ , and he _definitely_ liked the planet, Ravera, and the way the people in the room were almost holding their breath because they were _worried_ about their prince, about their _alpha_ , and yet they had already risked enough by making that worry _known_.

Lance could though. He could argue and bicker and _reject_. He wasn’t part of the species wide pack here, he hadn’t bared his throat to Raikon or the king and queen, the alphas of Ravera. Lance was an _outsider_. And Raikon getting hurt or captured would put a damper on the formation of the treaty. The Galra would get the prince of the very people who had defied them for _centuries_. It was just a bad idea all round for him to go all alone, but what could Lance offer if Raikon wasn’t willing to take any of his people with him for their own safety? What could he force onto the other that he’d have no option of refusing?

Far away, on the outskirts of the capital city, Blue purred in his mind with the answer.

“Then I’ll go with you!” He blurted, and- whoa, okay, _really_ Blue? _That_ was her oh so clever idea? A pulse came through their bond, full of laughter at his expense. Lance huffed, wondering _who_ exactly in Voltron had the volatile lion, because Blue nudged him into doing her bidding so many times that half the time he couldn’t even tell who’s idea was what. Like back on Arus, challenging Keith to see who could free fall the longest. Blue took offense to his thoughts, thrumming the bond in that way she knew annoyed him, like an itch deep inside his core he couldn’t reach to scratch.

“Yeah,” he finally confirmed, resigning himself to the idea, voice more confident as he repeated, “Yeah, I’ll go with you. Your soldiers might not know enough about infiltration for you to feel comfortable taking them with you, but I do. We infiltrate the Galra all the time, so if you’re serious about taking them all on then you’re going to need backup.”

Suddenly, a voice piped up from _right behind him._ “I’m coming too.”

Lance spun around, heart lodging itself in his throat, thinking, _shit, Allura_. Thankfully for his continued existence however, it wasn’t her.

It was Pidge.

_And_ Allura.

Lance may or may not have squeaked. Quietly. Probably did, if Tarvo’s sympathetic glance told him anything.

“Those battleships always have the most information on prisoners, and I already have a program to decode through their security.” Pidge explained into the tense air, determinedly staring at them all. “I’m coming.”

“If you will not allow your own soldiers to accompany you, sire,” an elderly looking Ravi murmured in agreement, “then at least accept the paladins’ offer.”

Raikon huffed again in annoyance. “It is but one battleship and a few tiny planes!” He complained, sounding like a spoiled brat for a moment. “But fine! If the princess is willing, then I shall be honoured to take her paladins with me.”

Behind Pidge, standing tall and regal with a nervous Hunk beside her, Allura took in the room as a whole. Her eyes passed over Lance, who only barely held back the urge to cringe backwards, before coming to a stop on the large screen.

“Yes,” She finally replied, “The Galra cannot be allowed any closer. Three lions will be more than capable of defeating such a fleet.”

Every Ravi in the room suddenly _shuddered_ , teeth bared and hackles raised, turning as one onto Allura with frightening synchronicity. “Absolutely _not_ ,” Raikon growled, a rumble building up from his throat. “The talks are not yet over, we are not yet _allies_ , there will be no use of the lions. I _forbid_ it.”

Standing right next to the prince and within the other Ravi’s space, Lance could feel the tension crawl over his own skin, setting his nerves aflame. The atmospheric buzzing it set loose was frantic, chaotic and erratic, and Lance realised with a start what it was. Whatever they’d read in Allura’s words, whatever the offer of the three lions had meant to them, it had _unnerved_ them. But- But _why_?

“You say we are not allies and yet you’ll have my Paladins fight alongside you?” Allura shot back, her own hackles rising incredulously in response. “You’ll demand my black and red paladin to join yours in subduing your _own_ criminals, but not the rest in fighting off our joined enemies? In any case,” she harshly cut through when it looked like Raikon was about to reply, “I absolutely refuse to send my paladins into enemy territory without their lions.”

Raikon outright _bristled_ , waves of his agitation palpable to Lance, who was standing _right next to him_. His entire body language screamed aggression, much like Tarvo’s had only yesterday, but Lance could taste in the air just how much more dangerous the Prince of the Ravi was in comparison to a mere soldier. It was _exactly_ like standing next to an angry alpha, one that wasn’t _Lance’s_ alpha, kicking all all his instincts into overdrive as well.

Leaning back, Lance tried to pull himself away from the close-knit quarters the Ravi had packed themselves into, wondering wildly for a minute when they’d pushed in so close. Tarvo was by his prince’s other shoulder, growl so quiet Lance was sure only he could hear it, and many of the Ravi Lance had pegged as soldiers were equally riled up.

“And here I was,” Raikon hissed, voice low and dangerous, “Thinking your paladins could handle themselves in warfare without their _precious_ lions. Do not mistake our offer to your Black and Red to join the hunt as us requiring _aid_ , but giving you the chance to prove yourselves to those that question your legitimacy. _You_ need us princess. _We_ do not need Voltron. We have never needed Voltron, and yet we entertain you on our planet that we hold dear out of basic decency for the wellbeing of the universe at large. You would do well to remember that, princess.”

Breathing slowly in the heavy air, Lance carefully slid a few more inches away from the angry alien pack, feeling Pidge slip a hand into his and guide him towards the relative safety of his friends. A quick glance showed that the princess looked _incensed_ , fists clenched tightly at Raikon’s tone, Hunk at her side visibly fretting.

Finally, after a beat where both royalty stared each other down, Preva cleared her throat, announcing her presence from behind Allura, closer to the door. “While this is truly fascinating,” she drawled unapologetically, a lone eyebrow cocked at the prince and princess, “We still have Galra encroaching into our territory. The blue and green paladin have already offered their services, my Prince. Perhaps the three of you should go prepare. Vikro, get one of the ulstro models ready for them.”

One of the Ravi Lance had assumed was a technician quickly agreed and ran off, bowing as he passed Preva and left the room.

Throwing his head back like an agitated horse, Raikon rolled his shoulders in a move Lance recognised as an attempt to dispel the strain. “If the paladins still wish to join me,” he finally spoke up into the quiet, “then I will be honoured to have them. Lance? Green paladin?”

The sudden force of Raikon’s piercing green eyes focusing entirely on Lance felt suffocating, even as Lance’s instincts acknowledged that the remaining tension and disapproval wasn’t aimed at him. It still felt like Lance had done something _wrong_ , had disappointed his alpha, should bare his throat and apologise. He held back easily enough though, instinctively leaning heavily on Blue who was always present at the back of his mind. A squeeze on his hand helped too, the sudden reminder that Pidge was holding his hand acting as a much needed anchor. Coughing to clear his throat, Lance tried, “Uh, sure, yeah of course. If, uh, Allura agrees.” He cut a side eye to the still tense princess, at a complete loss what to do if the two went at each other’s throat again.

“I’d like to come too,” Pidge bravely threw in, turning to Allura next with a pointed look, her grip on Lance still betraying her courage. “There might be information I need. To find Matt and dad.”

Allura twitched at the reminder and exhaled slowly, letting the tension bleed out from her body. Raikon reacted accordingly, though Lance could still see and feel the low buzzing annoyance in the slight strain of his eyebrows and the wary looks of his betas.

“Of course,” Allura finally allowed, giving Pidge and Lance determined looks. “I trust my paladins to take care of themselves. Hunk and I would like some way to keep watch, however, Prince Raikon. Will this room remain the control hub?”

“No.” Raikon answered succinctly, almost inhospitably. “Preva will lead you to the control room. Preva.”

The specified Ravi nodded, placing a fist to her heart and bearing her throat before she indicated Allura and Hunk to follow her. Allura did so with a final look at them, but Hunk shot them a thumbs up and an intricate series of hand signs and eyebrow wiggles that Lance understood meant that he’d try to cool the princess down.

Great. Good luck to Hunk on that. First Ulaz had threatened her leadership by driving her paladins to question her certainty that all Galra were evil, and now Raikon was essentially doing the same? Having two people refuse to fall in line to her neatly fixed boxes within such a close span of time couldn’t have been making her all too happy. Lance just hoped she wasn’t planning on tearing him and Pidge a new one when they finally got back.

“Come,” Raikon said as soon as they were gone, tilting his head to a different door Lance hadn’t noticed. “We shall begin preparations. You will both need weapons, of course.”

“Uh no, not really,” Lance disagreed carefully, finally stepping in next to the dubious safety of Pidge, both of them letting go of their grip on each other. “We’ve got that covered.” He unhooked his bayard from his side, letting it glow blue and transform into the solid blaster he loved, and let it glow back into stasis again. The technician’s in the room _oohed_ at that, one or two excitedly quaking in their shoes. The prince cocked an eyebrow in surprise, finally relaxing as Pidge dutifully showed off her bayard to the curious Ravi, Tarvo shoving through to loom over Pidge’s tiny stature and stare in wonder at her unassuming green weapon.

“Then there is not much to prepare,” confirmed the prince, fascinated himself as Pidge let her bayard crackle, indicating its electric property, before transforming back into stasis. “The Galra are about five mega lures from here, which will only take a quintent or so to reach with the ulstro model. Follow me, paladins.”

Lance waited for Pidge to fall in step with him, the two quickly following the prince’s long strides out of the room and into the hallway. He led them to what must have been below the ground level, sleek metal doors the like of which Lance hadn’t seen in the city before silently sliding open. Behind them, a huge hangar became apparent, rows upon rows of ships of different sizes and makes apparent. Some were _humongous_ , larger than the Castle of Lions, their golden surface reflecting the artificial light of the bay.

Lance whistled, instinctively grabbing a hold of Pidge’s collar just in time to almost strangle her as she burst forward eagerly, fingers twitching to dig into the ship’s innards. Raikon laughed, having caught the action, and proudly flicked his hair over his shoulder, puffing up his chiselled chest in pride of his kingdom’s space navigation fleet.

“We’ll be taking that one,” he motioned, signalling a sleek, chrome ship only a little bit bigger than the two-person pods the Castle of Lions had. Pidge made a wounded noise at it, hands grabbing at thin air as she tugged against Lance’s hold. “Patience, Green Paladin,” Raikon snorted, amused but pleased by her reaction. “I promise to let you break one open once we return.”

Oh boy, Lance huffed to himself, seeing the dangerous spark light up Pidge’s eyes, the prince was definitely going to regret that.

A man hurried towards them, long thick beard braided down to his chest the first thing Lance noticed. He was carrying what looked like two wicked long daggers, both curved just enough to be visible. Raikon took them from him, spinning them a few times with a familiarity that spoke of much use, and finally pushed them through two waiting folds in the back of his pants – folds Lance had _definitely_ not noticed before.

“Is there anything else you wish to prepare for, paladins?” The prince asked them, nodding at the man who bowed and hurried off. At Lance and Pidge’s shared look and headshake, Raikon suddenly grinned – wide and carefree – and rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Excellent!” He said, all but skipping to the ship. “Then come! I haven’t stretched my legs in phebes!”

Lance glanced at Pidge again, who pulled a face at him and shrugged, tipping sideways to companionably bump her shoulder with his side. Far away, yet still so close, Blue hummed in the back of his mind, forever present, forever supportive.

Inhaling deeply, Lance squared his shoulders and followed after the prince, Pidge taking his cue and falling in line, just like back in the Garrison. Maybe what little relationship they’d had before hadn’t crashed and burned. Maybe he could still ruffle her hair and force a laugh or two out of her, even with the knowledge that she was a girl, not a boy. Lance didn’t know, but he was more than willing to find out, and unlike before, just a little bit hopeful.

But for now, it was show time. The Galra wouldn’t know what hit them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ix) **\--GAL!** c) aayyyy, have fun my bros. hope you're all doing good.


	4. blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ١) I edited this chapter than lost it all and thus it took 2 days longer than expected. ٢) considering this is super late anyway I doubt the 2 days mean much to y'all i'm so freaking sorry ٣) also believe it or not but this isn't the full chapter - there's supposed to be an extra scene (an allura scene!) but I didn't know if you guys would be fine with a 13k+ chapter. ٧) SEASON 5 IS COMING WHO ELSE IS PREPARED FOR DISAPpointment \o/

The Galra had known _exactly_ what hit them.

Lance ducked under a barrage of laser beams, hiding behind the partially open door he’d been using as his blockade. As soon as the sound of shots hitting the door stopped, he threw himself back out again, bayard up and ready to shoot, and picked off as many as he could.

The ‘droids kept coming though, slowly marching forward in synchronised footsteps, completely unbothered by being bottlenecked into the narrow hallway.

“Hurry up, Pidge!” Lance shouted back into the room. He ducked behind his door when the shots started up again, catching a glimpse of Pidge struggling with the Galran command post.

“Give me three minutes!” She shouted back, frantic typing loud enough for Lance to hear. “I’m close! I know it! I just need more time!”

Lance gritted his teeth, ignoring the sweat that rolled down the side of his face, and shot down a few more that had gotten too close. He wanted to shout at her again, to tell her to screw it, that they _had_ no time, but he held it back with a quiet growl. This was her _family_ she was searching for, her _missing_ family that she was asking Lance three minutes for. He wasn’t sure how exactly he could keep the androids off them for that long, but he was going to _damn well do it_.

Jaw clenched, Lance raised his bayard, sighting down the rifle at the encroaching enemy combatants. The ‘droids weren’t difficult enemies – too rigid in movement with absolutely no _instinct_ – but they made up for that in _numbers_. There was just too many of them; he must have shot down dozens of them already, but more just kept taking their place.

It was moments like this that Lance found himself pathetically grateful for his bayard. It didn’t need bullets for one (otherwise he would’ve run out _months ago_ , and definitely would’ve run out here), nor did it ever overheat. There was barely any recoil, the gun shooting as smoothly as if there was nothing to shoot in the first place, and it never jammed, ever, like a normal gun apparently did. He’d never touched one until he’d signed up for the Garrison – he _was_ a werewolf, any gun in his life usually signalled a hunter, and _that_ signalled _running away_.

He couldn’t run away here, though. Not in this battle, and definitely not in this war. Pidge needed him right now, and in a wider picture, the _universe_ needed him. Somehow, they’d gotten separated from Raikon from the very first ambush – something they’d planned for just in case. Lance just had to trust that the prince could really handle his part of the plan as well as himself, and that he hadn’t just been boasting back on Ravera. The last thing any of them needed was the prince – or Pidge and himself – taken as hostages. That would _really_ be bad.

Cursing under his breath, Lance hitched his bayard up and took aim. Every shot took down three, sometimes two. It was easy to do thanks to how crowded the narrow hallway was, but it didn’t change what he already knew. There was just too many of them. They were blocked in.

They’d need a different escape route.

Mind clocking overtime, Lance shouted back at Pidge again, telling her to hurry up as he quickly scanned what he could see of the room she was in. It was a typical control room – huge wall to wall glass that doubled as windows for flight navigation and computer screens. Pidge had three open – all in the ominous purple the Galra loved – and while Lance couldn’t understand any of it he could tell she was sifting through the data and downloading it into her gauntlet.

“Almost there,” Pidge was mumbling under her breath, far too quiet for normal human ears to hear. “Almost there… Two minutes, Lance!” She shouted.

They didn’t _have_ two minutes.

Suddenly, a strange crackling noise buzzed through the air, growing louder as enemy fire lessened, until no more shots came Lance’s way. The strange buzzing noise – _electricity_ , Lance realised – crawled down his spine, raising the hairs on the back of his neck until the noise suddenly just ceased. Just like that. Silence.

Breathing harshly through the sudden tension in the air, Lance swallowed past the thick lump in his throat as his grip on his bayard tightened. He glanced back at Pidge, saw her falter for a moment – fingers stuttering over the keys – before she resumed again, saw her throw him a pleading look over her shoulder before turning back to her work, _trusting him_ to take care of whatever new development was happening.

Inhaling deeply, Lance held it in to a count of five, then exhaled. Slowly, he peered around his door blockade.

There, standing in front of a veritable grave of suddenly inactive androids, stood a Galra. The uniform and general bulk immediately set him apart from the usual flesh and blood foot soldiers the paladins came across. Lance knew what that uniform meant – so would Pidge, if she ever turned backwards – and neither of them were in anyway whatsoever prepared to deal with a commander. The two giant gauntlets the Galra wore on either hand were reminiscent of Sendak’s, the knowledge prickling at his gums, the threat of an oncoming shift echoing in his throat in a low growl Lance just barely bit back.

“Useless machines,” the commander growled, kicking at a limp arm, “Couldn’t even handle two little Paladins. Surrender now and I won’t break any limbs.”

Lance clenched his jaw, released it, and clenched it again just for good measure. “How much longer, Pidge?” He asked, keeping his eyes on the Galra.

“A minute and a half. Max.” Pidge responded, fingers not pausing for a second in her hacking.

Lance aimed his bayard at the commander, aiming it right where the heart would be. Same biology as humans, as far as he’d seen. Same heart, same blood, same mortality.

But.

_Sendak._

He’d been the same too. Cocky, with obvious body modifications done to him by druids. He’d had the same biology as humans as well. Same heart, same blood, same mortality.

And yet he’d been _strong_.

Even now, months later, Lance couldn’t get over how _useless_ he’d been in that fight. The only good thing he’d done was protect Coran, but he should’ve been able to get _up_ after that. He should’ve healed, like he’d healed a hundred times before.

So it had been an explosion, and not just a burn here or there, _big deal_. And yeah, okay, so it had been an explosion done with weird alien tech using weird alien magic with a weird alien crystal that had some magic-like qualities to it. And _sure_ , fine, so the crystals weren’t just minerals dug from the earth or something but actually from a living creature, from the Balmera, meaning it had been a part of something _alive_ , something that had been freely offered to the Alteans, something _sacrificed_.

Those things had power, Lance knew. Power not in the sense of brutal strength, but of _spirit_ , of body and soul and something science would never be able to explain – even Altean science. And power like that… Power like that didn’t like being blown up. _Magic_ like that didn’t like being blown up. Lance was just lucky his team had thrown him into a healing pod before they noticed that he hadn’t actually been bleeding. Much.

He’d have to be careful, here. He had no idea what the druids could have done to the Galra in front of him. Witches were dangerous on a good day back home, but space witches? Shiro’s nightmares were warning enough that they were _worse_.

Instinctively knowing that it would do nothing, Lance let loose a shot. The blue light hit true, not even so much as singing the armour over the Galran’s heart. Just as he’d thought.

The commander looked down at his chest, then back up again, teeth very, _very_ sharp in their sudden appearance. “That’s a no to surrendering, then.” He grinned. “Good. I like breaking limbs. I can’t wait to rip you apart and get my hands on the tiny green one.”

“You’re not getting your hands on _anyone._ ” Lance bristled, the idea of Pidge in those huge, mechanical hands sparking a deep, protective rage. He quickly squeezed off a few more shots, prepared when the Galran moved to avoid getting his head blasted off.  He _wasn’t_ prepared for the Galran to be so _fast_ , though, breaking into his range faster than Lance could do anything about, effectively making his blaster useless.

“A minute, Pidge!” He was able to grit out, just barely missing a huge fist swinging at his head. “No more!”

He didn’t hear if she responded or not – didn’t even try to hear it – too busy dodging the sudden crackle of electricity that lanced across his cheek. The Galra laughed, a cruel sound that drove Lance up the wall with irritation. He wanted to wipe that smirk off the Galran’s face, he wanted to slash a clawed hand across it, leave behind five raw lines on the purple skin.

The Galran must have read his expression, because it twisted into something that could only be described as _condescending_ , the exact same expression Lance sometimes saw on Keith during sparring, when Lance had to reign back his strength and ended up getting distracted. He’d seen it on some Ravi’s as well, directed at all the paladins, the look of someone looking down on someone else, thinking themselves better, _exactly_ how the few hunters Lance had been unlucky enough to come across had looked down upon werewolves.

“Of all the paladins to board my ship, it just had to be you two. I would’ve preferred the red one.”

Something _snapped_.

Lance _snarled,_ bayard back at his hip and claws out. He dodged the next strike, ducking low and striking across the Galra’s mid-section, and let a cocky smirk grace his face when the Galra staggered back in surprise. Where the blaster’s lasers had done nothing, Lance’s claws had cut clean through the armour and bit into the commander’s skin.

Lance had drawn first blood.

Shock passed over the Galra’s face, disbelief flickering into unease for a quick tick before it settled on righteous fury. “You’ll pay for that, little Blue.”

Lance bared his fangs, safe in the knowledge that his helmet would hide the more unexplainable parts of his shift. Pidge was too busy to pay either of them any attention, anyway, and if she _did_ look, all she could possible see would be his gold eyes and maybe, just _maybe_ , his fangs – things the human mind would explain away even without his help.

But she wouldn’t look back. She wouldn’t turn away from her work, not when the clock was ticking on them. No, she trusted him to take care of her, to take care of himself, long enough for her to get the data she needed. She _trusted_ him. And Lance wasn’t going to let some sanctimonious self-important alien think _Keith_ was any better than _him_. That _he_ was weak, easy to toss aside and use as a hostage like Sendak had. Sendak had gotten _lucky_ , with that explosion, with the corrupted quintessence messing with Lance’s healing regeneration. _Nobody_ was ever going to get that lucky again.

He dodged the next hit that came, legs wide and arms out, sliding easily into an old familiar stance he hadn’t used since the last time he’d been home. The commander was bigger than him – far bigger – but just how much stronger was unknown. To figure it out, he let a hit land, sliding backwards with the force to lessen the impact. Strong, he decided. But not _too_ strong.

Lance grinned, eyes flashing, and gripped the Galra’s wrist in a clawed hand. The alarmed look he got in return was satisfying – the Galra tried twisting out of Lance’s grip, but it was too late. Using his leaner body, Lance hunkered down and shouldered the alien’s bulk, pushed against it and _up_ , using his grip and werewolf strength to take the alien clean off his feet and flip him over into a body slam.

The Galra choked, eyes wide in shock, and Lance _preened_ long enough that he didn’t see the other fist come right for his head. He damn well felt it though, his ears ringing loud enough to deafen him to anything else. Lance staggered back to his feet, balance gone from the blow to the head, and took a few pointed steps back, noticing the Galra doing the same.

Wiping off some blood from a split lip, Lance flashed his fangs in a sneer that had the Galra squaring up his shoulders. The condescending look was completely gone from his purple face, replaced instead with a reassessing gaze that travelled down Lance’s admittedly unimpressive body.

Derek had an impressive body. Nobody ever underestimated Derek. Maybe Lance should’ve joined his older brother Raph at the gym. Maybe Shiro would help, if Lance asked. Maybe Shiro would even be pleased with him.

The deafening screech of an alarm tore Lance from his thoughts, deafening his sensitive ears, and took both of them by surprise. Lance glanced over at Pidge, confirming his suspicion, and saw her give him the thumbs up. She’d gotten the data, meaning they could get the hell out of dodge. Lance was just about to step into the control room to join her when Pidge’s expression turned to one of horror, eyes fixed on something behind her-

-the Galra. He’d turned his back on the _Galra_.

A huge fist collided with his side, claws digging in right past his armour and into soft flesh, Lance’s instincts too slow to twist out of the way. Something cracked inside from the force, shoving a gasp out of him, and then- a crackling sound?

Electricity. Lance had forgotten about the electricity.

But the Galra sure as hell hadn’t. Lance _screamed_ as purple sparks crackled all over his body, his shift bleeding back into hiding and taking his senses with them. It kept going on, shocks zinging through every nerve ending, blinding him to everything but the pain. He didn’t notice when it finally disappeared, still jerking with the aftershocks, too out of it to realise Pidge had screamed his name and joined the fight, the rope of her bayard pulling the Galra’s fist away from Lance’s side. He sure as hell felt the claws reluctantly leave him though, dragging across his side before popping free with a disgusting wet noise.

With it out, he dropped like his strings had been cut, still twitching from the shocks coursing through his body. Instinct screamed at him to move, to _get up_ and _fight_. Lance gritted his teeth and tried, pushed himself up to his shaky elbows and almost fell flat on his face again at the pain. _Up_ , the voice said again, and- oh, Lance realised, it was _Blue_ , Blue was urging him up, sending concern and worry through the bond, the warmth of it pulsating in his chest. _Get up_ , she pushed at him, _little Green needs you_.

Pidge.

Shoving himself up to his knees, Lance spat out the blood in his mouth, wiping away at the wetness over it. His entire body felt tenderised, his side screaming in pain, but his senses were back again – muted, like he was underwater, but back. Pidge was darting in and out as fast as she could, alternating between using her dagger and rope, but it was easy to see that she was struggling. The Galra – despite his size – was only just shy of being as fast as she was, his hits missing her by a hair’s width.

Reaching to the bayard at his side, Lance pulled it free and gripped it as it transformed into his blaster, the comfortable weight of it cantering him. He took aim down the sights, twitching hands stilling as he fell into the familiar mindset, knees holding him up. A second passed – Pidge dashed in, striking across the commander’s Achilles heel. Another second – Pidge ducked under the counterattack, slipping in her own momentum to get out of range- _there_.

Lance inhaled, hands finally still. Exhaled, pulled the trigger.

The Galra dropped.

Pidge skidded to a stop next to him, both of them breathing heavily as they waited for something to happen. Lance knew he’d gotten a headshot, knew the Galra hadn’t had enough time to block or dodge, but he wouldn’t be surprised if the Galra could survive that. Who knew what sort of corrupted magic the Druids used.

Lance had never much liked witches.

“I think he’s down,” Pidge broke the silence, hand still gripping her bayard tightly. “Unless he can survive half of his skull blown out.” She sounded almost sick, as if unnerved by the sight of the fresh corpse in front of them. Oh, Lance realised distantly, of course she’d be, she’d never actually been face to face with the sort of damage his and Hunk’s weapons made. “We should go before reinforcements come.”

Struggling up to his feet, Lance swayed slightly but refused the hand Pidge offered him. Once on his own two feet he found his balance, breathing coming in more easily – werewolf healing, finally kicking in, thank the moon. His side was still killing him, but he couldn’t quite feel the broken bone jarring together anymore. Just the claw marks.

And here he’d been, thinking that joining the Garrison meant no more claw marks. Figured that he’d get clawed up by an overgrown purple _cat_ of all things. Space claws. _God_ , his _life._

(Nana Hale would’ve found this _hilarious_. She would’ve found _all_ of this hilarious – Voltron, the Galra, the way Keith pissed him off to no ends. He- he missed his family – his pack – _so damn much_ , his heart heavy with an ache he couldn’t verbalise. He wanted to go home and tell them about everything he’d seen, about the people he’d met and the enemies he’d fought. About all the cool stuff he’d done, about how being a werewolf in outer space was _so cool_ , about the lions and Coran and the flying castleship and-

And he would. He _would_. He’d see them after they defeated Zarkon, after they helped all the people in the universe that had been hurt by the empire. He’d tell Nana because they all knew even Lady Death was afraid to reap her soul and Derek would shove his smug _I told you so_ down his throat and they’d all love Blue. He knew it. He _knew it._

But first-)

-“Yeah,” Lance agreed, clearing his throat when it came out too choked up. Too emotional. “Let’s go.”

They made their way forward, past the still corpse of the commander and the even stiller corpses of the electrocuted androids. Lance glanced at the commander as he passed by, feeling his eyes flash beta gold as he took in the perfect bullseye in between the alien’s forehead, the clean entry hole it made, and the decidedly unclean exit hole hidden by brain matter and skull fragments.

Guns were a dangerous weapon.

Grimly, Pidge led the way, struggling a little as they climbed over the small mountain the androids made. They both stayed on alert, rounding the corners carefully as the alarms continued ringing above them. Five turns later they found Raikon, the prince expertly dispatching a small group of Galran foot soldiers that didn’t stand a chance. He noticed them quickly enough, waving them forward, and patted them on the shoulder as soon as they were in range.

“Good,” he hummed, seemingly satisfied with the touches, “You’re both fine. Have you found the data you were searching for?”

“Yup. Did you set the charges?” Pidge shot back, eyes alert.

Raikon nodded, sharp eyes momentarily taking Lance in. “Then let us be off. Come.”

The three of them took off, retracing their steps and taking down any opposition that stood in their way. With three of them it was easier to handle the few ‘droid squads and foot soldiers that came there way, and soon they were back in the Ravi-made pod and boosting their way back to the planet.

“And now, for our hard work…” Raikon pressed a series of complicated buttons, pushing the pod into full speed ahead as bright lights burst into existence behind them in a kaleidoscope of colours.

Lance craned his head around as much as he could, wary of his still smarting side, a wide grin spreading across his face as the first of the explosions began, right in the cargo bay of the huge battalion, spreading all around and catching on to the smaller fleets in a beautiful, _silent_ , chain reaction.

Nobody could hear you scream in space.

But _everyone_ was free to watch the rainbow coloured fireworks that constituted Ravi explosions.

“Holy crow!” Lance enthused, Pidge whistling her agreement beside him. “You did all that?”

Raikon looked pleased with himself, a smug smirk on his face as he shot them both a considering glance. “As much as it pains me to say it, I couldn’t have done it without either of you. The bulk of the battalion’s forces seemed invested in hunting you down, the commander included. It left me with open spaces and far too much free time.”

Raikon had meant to be the distraction – if they’d gotten separated – but apparently _they’d_ become the distraction instead. Lance shrugged, unconcerned, then winced when his side loudly protested the movement. Pidge didn’t notice – thank _crow_ – but Raikon caught him out with a worried look, reluctantly shutting his mouth when Lance mimed at him to _keep quiet_.

The flight back to Ravera was peaceful after that, Pidge already skimming through the data she’d  gathered and relaying the relevant parts to Raikon. Lance knew she’d only look through the prison records in a secured location, maybe in the comfort of the Green lion’s cockpit. She’d announce any findings she had after, and not a moment before.

They broke through the planet’s atmosphere soon after, the pod’s automatic landing procedures kicking in to safely navigate them to the Ravi’s versions of a helipad, placed on one of the palace’s towers. The tower rumbled, the entire landing platform beginning to descend right through the tower like a huge elevator, Lance and Pidge watching with the same awe as when they’d first left the planet.

Once the lift stopped, the wall in front of them slid open to reveal the huge hanger that was built beneath the palace, sudden life appearing in the form of busy Ravi flight technicians maintaining the huge numbers of ships that made up the Ravi’s airforce.

Pidge had quit fiddling with her gauntlet, expression glazed in hunger as she took in the hubbub around her. Lance had to elbow her to get out when the pod opened, Raikon easily climbing out while they had to struggle thanks to their shorter limbs.

A vaguely familiar face was waiting for them – a pale white Ravi with silver blond hair that trailed well past his waist, and a tired, weary expression. Lance recognised him just as Raikon boomed, “Vanya! You’ve returned! I trust the hunt went well?”

One of the three commanders, Lance realised, the one that Shiro and Keith had been forced to join just to prove the Paladins worth to the Ravi’s council. Strangely enough, he was actually wearing a shirt – and an elaborate one at that, all frills and balloon sleeves, utterly bizarre against the backdrop of the mostly shirtless Ravi.

Vanya bared his throat to his prince as he tapped a fist to his heart, answering with a grumpy, “It went. We returned just in time to see the spectacle you made of our enemies.”

Which meant- _crap_. Lance shared a look with an equally cringing Pidge, both of them dreading Shiro’s response to them going rouge, even if Allura had allowed it in the end.

Completely unbothered, Raikon laughed, slinging an arm over Vanya’s shoulder. They contrasted strangely against each other; Vanya surprisingly a few inches taller than the prince, yet almost a sickly pale compared to Raikon’s tanned glory. Add in the disparity of one being fully clothed and the other bare chested, and it was just… weird.

“Like you and Keith but in reverse,” Pidge whispered to him, snickering when Lance squawked at her indignantly.

Before Lance could retort (with what, he didn’t know, he hadn’t exactly inherited the infamous sharp tongue of the Hale’s, unfortunately), Vanya directed his next words to all three of them. “The King and Queen are in a meeting.” He said, back hunched under Raikon’s arm to make up for the height difference. “They’ll be ready to review whatever information you’ve retrieved in half a _traygar_.”

“Enough time to make ourselves look presentable, then,” Raikon added, humming in thought. “Very well, you should both go report to the princess before she assumes I’ve kidnapped you. I’ll send for some attendants to collect you once my parents are ready. Does that agree with you, Paladins?”

“Yeah, sure.” Lance agreed, Pidge nodding in agreement at his side. They both said their goodbyes, Raikon disappearing through one side while Lance and Pidge were directed to leave through another.

It was as they walked past a random mirror in the hallway that Lance caught a glimpse of himself, at the banged up armour with flecks of Galra blood and his own colouring the white and blue, at the rips and tears and burnt areas from the Galra’s claws and electricity. Pidge was completely unaware of her surroundings, too focused on the data streaming across her gauntlet to pay any attention to him or anything, not even noticing when he trailed behind her and came to a halting stop.

He paid her no mind in return, too busy staring in bewilderment at his reflection, at the ripped fingertips of his gloved hands where claws protruded for all the world to see. Too busy staring as his eyes flashed beta gold and _stayed_ that way, even though he’d been certain they’d returned to normal after he’d been electrocuted. He’d shifted back to normal, hadn’t he? He _knew_ he had, he knew he’d been normal throughout the entire flight, but then- _when_ had he shifted? And why hadn’t he felt it! For how long had he been walking around half shifted, with his claws out and – a quick peek at his teeth – his _fangs_ out?

He had to get away before Pidge finally remembered the world around her, remembered _him_. He had to fix his armour, fix _himself_ before she noticed the tears at his fingertips, or the five long rips that travelled across his side. God, he had to do it before _anyone_ noticed, before _Allura_ noticed. She hated the Ravi! She already hated Lance! How much more would she hate him if she knew just how similar he was to them?

A cool presence trickled over him, numbing the growing panic that threatened to choke him, the sensation of Blue rumbling at him to _breathe_ making way. Lance did, inhaling the necessary oxygen he’d unknowingly been starving himself from, and felt her urge him to take the next turn, to head in a different direction to where they’d been going. Following her was as easy as swimming, so Lance ducked into the turn and shouted at Pidge to go on ahead, that he’d catch up with her soon, something or other about needing a bathroom. He could hear her shout indignantly after him, something about not wanting to face Allura’s wrath alone, but Lance paid her no mind, following the sudden compass in his head that urged him onwards, through twists and turn that didn’t lead to wherever Allura was, but their guest rooms instead.

He burst through the door, slamming it shut and flicking the lock in place, and all but collapsed against the wall, breathless. His legs gave out, the suddenness of it pulling a surprised gasp out of him as he slid down to the floor. Lance struggled to breathe past the panic still clawing at his throat, struggled to listen to Blue urge him to calm down. She flooded their bond with cooling waves, the sensation somehow ice cold against his feverish skin.

But his chest still felt tight, something rigid constricting him in a vice grip – the armour, he realised, he was still wearing the armour! Fingers scrabbling, Lance struggled to pull off the armour bit by bit, letting it fall wherever gravity deemed it, the chest plate being the last to come off. His chest immediately felt less constricted, air easily travelling through his treachea and into his lungs, relieving him off his stress. Holding it up to the light that flickered in through the window, Lance critically eyed it, taking in the visible damage that would’ve sent any other paladin into a cryopod.

He cursed quietly, then cursed again when the chest plate creaked under the grip of his still shifted hands, dropping it like it had burned him. He’d have to do something about that – repair it before the others saw, especially the _very_ distinctive claw marks that should’ve ripped him to ribbons. Blue murmured something to him – sensation, rather than words – and, _oh,_ she had an emergency uniform repair station in her, that was… that was great.

The good news broke through some of the tension coiled in his body, his reflection from the mirror showing the gold in his eyes stuttering, his usual blue peeking through. Lance stared at his face, pulled his lips back to see his teeth – yup, fangs still there, _quiznak_ – then closed them for a moment, a moment to try and centre himself. The room was quiet, quiet enough he could hear his breathing, could hear his heart thumping noisily in his chest. Blue’s presence was a blessing, filling the room to the brim and closing around him gently, like the warm embrace of a natural hot spring. He could almost _feel_ the purr she let loose, so different from his lupine family, from his _pack_ , and yet so familiar.

It brought on the nostalgic taste of old memories, his mom teaching him and his siblings how to shift, how to _hold_ it, how to let it go piece by piece. Old stories of how Nana had taught her when _she’d_ been young, had taught her and her siblings, how Uncle Peter had been a natural – and as smug as smug can be – how Aunt Talia had struggled the most, until finally she’d gotten the hang of it.

An anchor, she’d told him, was the second most important aspect of being a werewolf. Right after pack.

He needed- he needed an anchor. _His_ anchor. But-

-his family, his _pack_ , were his anchors, and they were light years away, too far to be grounding, too far to be anything but a liability. Thinking of them _hurt_ , it did nothing but remind him of just how far away they were, of just how impossible the vast distance between them was. How he didn’t know how Amelia’s last finals had gone, whether or not Leo had convinced Uncle Peter to let him in on a few cases, if anyone knew about the girl Derek had started secretly dating behind their backs, if Raph, his immediate older brother, had ever gotten over his ridiculous crush on the harpy that owned the best tattoo parlour in all of Varadero. He didn’t know _anything_ , wouldn’t know anything until they defeated Zarkon and his vast empire, and who _knew_ how long that would take.

No. He couldn’t think of that. He had no other anchor to latch onto anyway – as much as Blue was amazing, she was just one (huge, robotic, magical) lion. First rule of choosing an anchor; never pin it on one person. He couldn’t do that to her, to his family, to _himself_. So he’d stick with positive thinking, that maybe – just maybe – Ulaz had been telling the truth and there really were Galra against Zarkon’s rule. Maybe just defeating Zarkon would be enough, maybe he’d get to see his family afterwards, and they’d be so proud of him and angry at the same time.

Derek was gonna be _so smug_. He’d _told_ them it was stupid for a werewolf to want to go to space.

A door knock interrupted his reminiscing, startling what little control he’d scrounged up straight into nonexistence. He reined it back in with a struggle, thoughts of Derek and his would-be obnoxious expression fading away as Pidge’s voice hesitantly called out his name.

Surprised, Lance glanced around his and Hunk’s room, took in the armour strewn around everywhere and in disarray and realised he couldn’t let her in. Hell, he couldn’t let _Hunk_ in, unless he wanted to give the poor guy a heart attack. Gathering up all the pieces, Lance shoved them into the space beneath his bed, pushing them as far back as they could go so nobody would accidentally spot them. He peeled the flight suit off himself, grimacing at the sticky sensation of dried sweat and blood, hissing as it pulled at yet to heal wounds.

By the time Pidge called his name again with a firmer knock, Lance was in his casual clothes, grateful for the foresight of having brought them along as well as how much they conveniently covered his body. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he answered Pidge, quickly looking over his image in the wall mounted mirror. No wounds on face, check. No blood or icky residue in hair or behind his ears, check. Little ol’ human Lance and no sign of the big bad wolf? Check.

Lance opened the door with a flourish, immediately stepping out and shutting it behind him with a bright grin. “Pidgey!” He greeted cheerfully, “What’s up?”

“It’s Pidge,” Pidge automatically responded, “And you disappeared pretty quickly back there,” she continued suspiciously. “Allura wasn’t too pleased that you weren’t there for debriefing.” Lance winced. “Neither was Shiro.”

Double wince. Ah, crap. He was going to get chewed out, wasn’t he?

“I, uh,” excuse, excuse, he needed an excuse! “I needed the toilet _real_ bad – like number two bad.”

Pidge’s face screwed up in disgust. “Ew,” she said, “Did not need to know that.”

No, Lance thought to himself deprecatingly, she really didn’t, but he could tell that she’d bought it, so at least his dignity wasn’t hurt _too_ bad.

But had she come just to tell him that? As, what, some sort of heads up? That was unlike Pidge, something Lance would’ve expected from Hunk instead.

“So…” He began carefully, suspicious himself as he peered around the empty hallway. “Did you need anything?”

The young paladin visibly hesitated, ducking her head far enough that her ever present glasses hid her eyes from him. Lance wondered distantly if those were even prescription glasses, or just fake hipster ones like Amelia used to hoard like diamonds. He wondered if she still did that, or if she’d finally given in to Raph fashion policing her because he didn’t want to be seen ‘with such a fake loser’.

Maybe she’d finally let Lance have some of them. He really liked the colour tinted ones.

“I guess I just wanted to…” Pidge began, pulling Lance away from his bittersweet thoughts. “Uh, thank you.”

His thoughts – _any_ thoughts – ground to a halt.

“ _Thank_ me?” Lance repeated dumbly, eyebrows rising as he stared at the smaller paladin. “For what?” Had she thrown him under the bus with Shiro and Allura for something she’d done and was apologising for it with a thanks? What?

Pidge huffed, as if hearing his thoughts, and crossed her arms defensively over her chest. “ _Yes,”_ She stressed, “I _know_ we were cutting it close when we got barricaded in by all those ‘droids, I _know_ how difficult it must have been trying to keep them away from us, and that I put us both in danger, put _you_ in danger, but-” she stuttered, expression suddenly breaking into vulnerability, “But you _let_ me. You even fought off that big Galra by yourself just so I could have extra time to get that info.”

Flabbergasted, Lance stared as Pidge spoke, surprised at the sincerity he could hear. Why would she _thank_ him, though? It wasn’t like he’d done anything special. _Anyone_ would have done what he’d done, it was- it was _normal_! Who the hell wouldn’t have, when it could help her find her missing family?

Genuinely confused, Lance tried to shrug it off, to break the weird tension Pidge had created with her words. “It’s no big deal, right? Anybody would do it, since it’s to help find your family. Family’s important. Trust me,” he thought of his own, so very far away, “I’d know.”

Crap, he realised, catching on too late when he noticed Pidge staring at him with an unreadable expression. That last bit had been a bit too heartfelt, a bit too deep. Laughing awkwardly, Lance tried to wave it off, panicking as to what to say if Pidge caught on and started asking probing questions. But she didn’t, instead searching for something in his face with her intelligent, amber eyes, before she surprised him by wrapping herself around him in a tight, squeezing hug.

 _Ow_ , Lance thought as he froze in place, a high-pitched squeak escaping before he could stop it. His ribs protested the green paladin’s surprising strength, pain flaring up before beginning to dim slightly as his healing kicked in. Being a werewolf was great; heightened senses, ramped up speed and strength and accelerated healing, to name a few. Keyword being _accelerated_ healing, not _instantaneous_ , because _ow_ , his _ribs_ , quiznak.

Thankfully for him and his aches and bruises, Pidge let go almost as quickly as she’d latched on, giving a last final squeeze before all but running away, shouting something about checking the data she’d stolen and that he should _really_ go report to Shiro before Shiro came to report _him_.

Lance watched her go, bewildered, the warmth of her body pressed up against him still lingering in his bones. Whatever it was she’d been searching for when she’d stared at him, whatever she’d tried to find in him, must have been good, because _damn_ , Lance didn’t think he’d _ever_ seen Pidge hug anyone, much less as enthusiastically as she’d done right then. He’d known she was strong (hard not to when they all trained together), but that hug? Lance could _still_ feel it.

Laughter echoed through the bond, rolling waves crashing gently against the shore that made up the connecting point of their link. Blue was the ocean, he was the beach, and she was telling him to take a closer look at that warm, fuzzy, feeling he was… uh, _feeling_.

… Oh.

Was that…?

It was!

Holy _crow_ , Lance realised, a wide grin beginning to take over his face, what he was feeling wasn’t the residue of a nice little bonding moment, but an _actual pack bond_! A tentative one, _sure_ , not set in stone, but- but- it was real! Like Hunk’s bond! Like Coran’s! Holy crow, Lance felt _so much better!_

Alpha Luís had told him about this! He’d said he could feel each and every werewolf in the entirety of Cuba, in the entirety of his _territory_. That every new werewolf that agreed to follow his rules so they could settle in his domain felt like a new warmth, a new spark lighting up. They didn’t even have to be actual pack. Not really, because Lance’s alpha was Aunt Talia, not Alpha Luís, but- but _still_. The Hale pack had an _alliance_ with the Carbonell pack, Aunt Talia had told them all that if anything ever happened to them they should run to the Carbonell stronghold in Havana. Alpha Luís had said he could feel them vaguely, and used to joke that he could _especially_ feel Lance, because Lance was his favourite little wolf boy.

So… was _that_ what he was feeling? The almost-pack-but-not-quite bonds? Like what Alpha Luís said he felt about the McClain pack?

Blue trilled at him in affirmation, sounding just like the dolphins Lance had grown up seeing. She murmured to him a suggestion, something that could help the budding link to bloom into a full pack bond, no words as usual but the general impression of what exactly she wanted.

“Whoa,” Lance whispered under his breath, “Absolutely not. Are you insane?”

The quiet murmur of her water bubbled around him, insistent in her opinion, stubborn to a fault. Lance sent back his refusal through the connection, gating her oceans gently but firmly, a dam where he acknowledged her suggestion, but downright said _no_.

She backed off in reply, adapting to the sheer certainty of his answer, but smugly sent him a still image of Shiro and Allura, both of them stern and _still_ _waiting for him,_ oh _quiznack_.

He had to hurry up, neither of them liked to be kept waiting. It was bad enough that Lance had already flaked out on them by going to his room first – _god,_ just thinking about it was giving him a headache – they were going to _eat him alive_.

Pidge had said something about them being in the dining hall as she’d run off, so Lance set off there, hands buried deep into his oversized jacket. The dining hall wasn’t too far off from the rooms, and since they’d all eaten almost all of their meals there, Lance knew the way well. Maybe he could think of a really good excuse, or something? Would the toilet one work? … Maybe. At least on Shiro. Even a war couldn’t stop nature’s call, after all. Who knew if Altean’s even _had_ the same bowel movements? Maybe they could control their metabolism, and could choose _when_ to, uh, excrete the body’s wastes?

… Ew, Lance. Pidge was right, there were some things that _no one_ needed to know about.

Turning down another corner (the dining hall wasn’t close either), Lance spotted a familiar bed of dark hair, long and sleek, worn by a tall, built Ravi that spotted him in return.

“Lance!” Raikon greeted him enthusiastically. “Just the paladin I wanted to see!”

Raikon had wanted to see him? For… what?

Warily, Lance moved closer towards the bigger male, keeping his heart rate as steady as he could to avoid any sudden shifts. The sound of a small stream gurgling down a hill echoed through the bond; Blue, reassuring him that she’d keep him steady, keep him as still as the ocean on a windless day.

Blue was the freakin’ _best._ Lance wanted to show her off to his family _so badly_.

“What’s up, Raikon?” He asked, curious despite himself at the suddenly visible pride apparent on the prince’s face.

“I wanted to praise you!” Raikon boomed happily, stepping right into Lance’s space. “For your fight!”

Lance’s… fight? Lance frowned, trying to parse out what exactly Raikon was talking about. Fight? What fight? Lance hadn’t fought anyone in Ravera, and certainly not anywhere that Raikon could have seen, so what-

The fight. _The_ fight.

Raikon had seen Lance fighting _the Galran commander._

“You fought excellently against that Galra!” Raikon beamed, confirming Lance’s dawning horror. “I was most impressed with your strength and speed! Why did you not tell me you–”

Lance couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, _he couldn’t breathe_ , Raikon had seen seen _seen_ holy _crow_ he’d _seen_ and someone knew his secret his secret _his secret_ what should he do where should he go he needed to get _out-_

Ice cold water washed over him, over his insides, over everything that made him _him_.

 _Blue_ ; pouring pure ice through the bond. _Blue_ ; snapping him out of his panic, supporting him just like she always did, in any way she could.

Lance couldn’t run, he had nowhere to run _to_ , not really, and Raikon- Raikon seemed _happy_? The prince was still talking, enthusiastically miming what Lance realised must have been his own moves as Lance struggled to even _hear_ him.

 _Calm_ , Blue pushed through the bond, the steady trickle of a stream enforcing the thought speech of her essence. _Breathe._

Lance gasped on the command, lungs reacquainting themselves with the air he’d unknowingly deprived them off. Raikon stuttered to a stop at the noise, eyes widening as he seemingly just noticed Lance’s distress.

“Are you…” the prince hesitantly began, “Are you alright…?”

Grasping his chest, Lance held up a hand as he focused on breathing, blotting out everything but the Blue Lion as she threw waves after waves of reassurance. He could almost see the rhythmic movement of the ocean, rolling calmly across a clean beach, the sky dotted with puffy white clouds that floated gently across a baby blue sky, the same colour as little Matias’ bedroom.

Matias would be ten by now.

Lance wondered how many birthdays he’d miss.

“I’m fine,” he forced out, using the hand he still had in the air to dismiss the prince’s worry. “Just- you surprised me.”

“Surprised you?” Raikon frowned, still looking concerned. “Why would I have surprised you? I only wished to express my enjoyment of your battle. No doubt the green paladin has already done so.”

No, no she hadn’t, because she hadn’t _seen_ what Raikon had seen. She hadn’t seen Lance do- do _that_. _Fight_ like that. _No one had._

“You can’t tell anyone.” Lance pushed out, forcing the words past the thick lump of cloying fear that even Blue couldn’t dissipate. “Not the paladins or Allura or _anyone_. _Please._ ”

Confusion flickered over the prince’s face. “What?” He frowned. “Tell them what? That you fought excellently? That they are fortunate to have a–” Raikon faltered, confusion morphing into sheer and utter disbelief. “They _do not know_? Are you telling me that they do not know you are a- a _berserker_?”

“A what–”

“–A berserker!” Raikon repeated, agitatedly running a hand through his hair in continued disbelief. “Perhaps you have a different word for it back on your home planet, but you are most definitely what we know as a berserker here on Ravera. They’re people more in tune with the moon’s pull and thus stronger in every aspect because of it. But all that strength comes with the unfortunate side effect of being difficult to control, and thus many of them end up losing themselves to the moon and having to be taken down.” He explained, though he rushed to quickly add on, “But many more gain excellent control, and are hailed for it among our people. Like Kalder! It is why he prefers to work in the shadows, away from other’s sight; he dislikes the hero worship, though how anyone could dislike it is beyond me.”

Lance could- he could see it. Why Kalder would dislike the attention. Just the prince’s attention alone made him feel uncomfortable; the almost reverent way he spoke of berserkers, the information that seemed just a bit too similar to werewolves for Lance’s tastes, it all… it… it unnerved him.

Because here, they were celebrated. Here, their struggles were acknowledged, and if they were to persevere they were honoured. Here, on Ravera, his pack, his entire _species_ , could live comfortably. Happily. _Safely_.

And yet on Earth it was the complete opposite.

Back home, he had to hide every aspect of what made a huge part of him. He had to duck and keep his head down lest any wandering hunter caught sight of him. Back home he had to beg off from taking photos with friends because he had no way to explain the weird lens flare his eyes always caused. Back home, he had to-

…

He had to listen to werewolves tell Aunt Talia she was _weak_ for letting her son date a human girl. And then tell her _they’d told her so_ when that human – when _Paige_ – had been killed, and Derek’s beta eyes had suddenly lost their amber glow for blue.

The mark of a killer, they’d said. The mark of someone who’d taken an innocent’s life, they’d whisper. Oh, how the great Alpha Hale had fallen. Loving a human would always be the end of a werewolf.

Humans meant death.

He couldn’t let the others find out. They wouldn’t believe it at first – they’d ask for proof – and _then_ what? They’d probably accuse him of being some secret Galra weapon, they’d probably say he’d been switched out by the enemy, that the real Lance had been taken, or, or _something_. Maybe even infected. Or maybe- and this especially kept Lance awake at night, woke him gasping from nightmares – maybe, maybe one of them would _know_ about werewolves, would _know_ about the supernatural, because they themselves were hunters. Why else did Keith carry around that way above his pay grade dagger? That thing looked _exactly_ like what hunters liked to use, that _thing_ -

Lance wouldn’t be surprised. It would explain why everything about him set off Lance’s instincts, it would explain _so much_ about Keith, about his strangely skilled combat prowess, about him living on his own in the middle of nowhere, about the fact that even after months out here in space, Keith hadn’t mentioned any sort of family even _once_.

Hunters did that, he knew. Hunters trained their kids by abandoning them in hard to live places to fend for themselves.

Even if – even _if_ – none of them already knew about him, about _his people_ , Lance- Lance wouldn’t be able to handle it if they reacted badly on finding out. What if they were disgusted? Or- or _terrified_ of him? Or tried to hurt him?

Blue chided him, telling him he was being paranoid, that he should have more faith in his teammates, in the people he shared a bond with. He knew she was right- no, that was a lie, he figured that she was _probably_ right, and even if he didn’t trust _them_ he should trust the lions to have picked out decent people. After all, Yellow had chosen Hunk right? You couldn’t get more decent than Hunk.

But-

No buts. If Shiro _and_ Keith could stomach the idea that good Galra might actually be out there, might have actually freed Shiro and fought Zarkon for so long, if _they_ could believe that despite everything the Galra had put Shiro through, then… then maybe they’d be able to stomach the idea of one of their own being a werewolf.

If they even considered him one of their own.

There were so many ways that could go wrong, so many ways the other paladins could reject him or accept him, so many ways they could like him or hate him. But Blue told him to believe them, and Lance- Lance _couldn’t_ , that was the complete antithesis of what he’d grown up with, of _how_ he’d grown up.

And who even knew how the Alteans would react. He had _no idea_ if Altea had similar lore like the Ravi seemed to; if they had their own versions of werewolves. He had _no idea_ if they’d be open to what Lance truly was, or if they’d announce that their society was closer to that of hunters as opposed to how the Ravi seemed closer to the supernatural. What if they had no notion, no inkling, absolutely nothing to base their opinion on until any of the other paladins mentioned the stories scattered throughout history of his kind. Of how they were bloodthirsty, driven mad by the moon, longing only for blood and chaos.

No.

He wouldn’t be able to handle that. Just the thought alone – of being so alone out here in the cold depths of space – the thought _alone_ had his hands trembling, his breath hitching in his throat. The calm Blue had drowned him in weakened at the force of his fears, the small hairs on his arms and nape standing to attention at the possible threat looming in front of him.

He didn’t want anyone to look at him different. He didn’t want them to think of him differently. Yeah, he was a werewolf, but- but he was still _human_.

(Was he?)

He was still _Lance_ , right? They’d see that, right? They’d see he was normal, he was just… just a different kind of human, but still _human_ , right?

… Right?

“Ah.” The prince quietly said, staring at his face. Lance wondered what he could read in it, wondered what the prince was so easily understanding from his expression. “I suppose it is not the same for your people, then.”

That was an understatement. Back home, if anyone had seen the way Lance had fought with that commander, if _anyone_ had seen what Raikon had seen, he’d have already been a thousand feet under in a secret laboratory being experimented on by whatever government had gotten their hands on him first.

He knew that for a fact. Uncle Peter had shown him the pictures.

“Then I shall keep my tongue.” Raikon announced, straightening his shoulders and standing tall. “I won’t breathe a word of what transpired back on that ship, nor shall I… mention your… more _talented_ abilities.”

Lance exhaled roughly, relief loosening his own shoulders in return, exhaustion dragging them down like gravity. “Thank you.” He croaked, raising a trembling hand to run through his hair.

The prince nodded, his own regal expression marred by the unsettled twist of his lips. “But- Lance. If I may…” Lance raised eyes he must have lowered sometime to the prince, an unspoken blessing for the Ravi to continue. “You should not be forced to fight alongside allies you do not trust.”

Straightening up like a bullet, Lance quickly said, “I _do_ trust them!”

Raikon easily shot that down with a damning, “Then why don’t you tell them you are a berserker?”

Lance had no answer for that.

“I do not know how your people are treated on the planet you hail from,” Raikon pressed, taking a step forward earnestly, “But Lance, blue paladin, you cannot keep it a secret forever.”

The Ravi raised an arm, extending it towards Lance, fingers outstretched. Frowning, Lance raised his own still trembling one, slotting his hands on Raikon’s forearm, feeling Raikon grip his own in what he understood to be a Ravi greeting. To his surprise though, Raikon didn’t just squeeze down and let go as usual, but instead used his hold to tug Lance in towards himself. He fell into the older male, stiffening up at the unusualness of the situation until he felt another arm wrap around his back, until he felt the first one let go to join the other.

It was a hug. An all-encompassing, warm ( _so warm_ ), and totally unexpected hug.

“You cannot keep it quiet, _vala_.” Raikon muttered around him, his chest vibrating with the words. “And I pray tell that you will not need to for much longer. You deserve a team that you can trust, bonds that you can depend on, _people_ that you _believe_ wholeheartedly in. Perhaps you do not have it now, with the paladins of Voltron and that _obnoxious_ princess-” a surprised laugh escaped Lance, bewildered and anxious, “-but know that you have it here, with my people and I.”

The prince squeezed him tight, tight enough Lance felt his still tender chest actually begin to constrict, meaning the Ravi wasn’t holding back on his strength. The warmth of the hug, the warmth of another’s touch, of something Lance had become _touch-starved_ for, was almost too much, especially so soon after Pidge’s own show of sentiment. Lance could feel a lump form in his throat, could feel his eyes begin to sting with the warning bells of oncoming tears. Quiznak, he cursed himself, just how pathetic was he?

“Nonsense,” Raikon huffed, meaning- oh no, he’d actually said that out loud, hadn’t he? “Voltron does not know your worth, blue one. Perhaps the yellow one does – he seems particularly taken with you.”

Lance sniffled through a watery chuckle at that, lips wobbling as he said, “Yeah,” trying to hold back the tears uselessly. “He’s great.”

“Big too,” Raikon noted proudly. “He is a fine bloodkin. Or _will be_ once you tell him what you are. Which you will. Perhaps not now, but certainly by the time you come to visit us here once more.”

He looked up at that, surprised. He must have looked horrible – all red, leaking eyes and constantly having to sniff to keep back the fun times his nose was begging to unleash – but Raikon merely let go and cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Oh wipe those tears,” the prince rolled his eyes. “You shall return, of course. Once you defeat Zarkon, naturally. I might not particularly care for much of your teammates, but they do seem somewhat skilled on the battlefield. You’ll all do quite nicely against the old quiznack.”

A startled laugh burst out of Lance, eyebrows rising at the new vocabulary. Raikon frowned at him, suddenly looking uncertain.

“Did I not use that word correctly?”

Hell if Lance knew.

Running a hand across his eyes, Lance couldn’t stop the smile that stayed on his face even if he wanted to. Blue was pumping what felt like every positive thing universally possible through the bond, warming him up from the inside while Raikon muttered to himself about the correct usage of a word neither of them even knew the meaning of.

He still had to find Shiro and get reamed out for who knew what, he still had to deal with the wrath of Allura, with the cold distaste from Keith, with trying to fight a war that he had absolutely no part of save for living in the same universe as. He still had so much to do – _nothing_ had changed – and yet.

And yet.

“Thank you.” He whispered, somehow knowing that the other would be able to hear. “I guess I really needed that.” Blue whispered something to him in return, shoving a sense of _demand_ at him. “And Blue says thanks too.”

Raikon looked confused at that. “Blue? Are you not blue?”

“The blue lion,” Lance laughed. “Remember? We landed in our lions when we first came.”

“Oh.” Said Raikon, and then, with dawning comprehension, “ _Oh_! The Blue Lion! Wait- they’re _sentient_?”

Blue laughed in the back of his mind, the sound that of the ocean’s roar and seagull’s cry.

 _You’ve made a friend_ , she said to him, nudging him towards something strange, something new. _You’ve made a home_. Something ethereal, something intangible, yet there and present and _alive_.

A bond. One that dripped in gold and was as thin yet as strong as silver. Lance could feel warmth down the other end, respect and honour, and a heart so big it was fit to bursting.

 _Raikon_.

He’d made a friend, all right.

Lucky him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ١٠) I've run out of numbering systems and have thus moved to different languages. whaddup, arabic, mother of languages. did y'all know the number 0 didn't exist until arabic came along? 'cuz you do now. #yourewelcome (edit: also i just realised it's just a few minutes past valentine's day so this is my romantic gift to all you people. #yourewelcomeagain)


	5. rocky sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: I'm gonna be changing fic's title from _mostly void, partially stars_ to _seawolf_ as of chapter 6. Incredibly sorry about this, but it was a long time coming. Other than that, my favourite part of this chapter is the end. *cackles*

Lance found Hunk and Pidge first, both of them loitering around a huge archway with a grumpy looking Keith corralled between them. Sliding up to them, Lance bumped shoulders with the yellow paladin, grinning when Hunk immediately lit up once he saw him.

“Dude!” Hunk gushed, wrapping Lance up in a tight hug. “We saw the fireworks all the way from here! Pidge says you were great!”

Surprised, Lance peered over Hunk’s shoulder at Pidge, amused when she hid her expression away with an embarrassed grumble. Hunk rolled his eyes when he noticed her sudden bashfulness, dropping Lance gently back to solid ground, but kept an arm around him companiably. “Not that _that’s_ surprising,” Hunk announced, squeezing Lance into his side with a proud grin, “My dude is the _best_ dude. Leg bros, man.”

“Oh come _on_ ,” Pidge burst out exasperatedly from his other side, “Not this again! You can’t claim _leg bros_ when before all this Voltron stuff you were _Garrison bros_. Just how many weird versions of bros do you need?”

Lance laughed when Hunk seriously replied, “All of them. We need _all_ the bros. Every bro. Tanned bros. Multilingual bros. Multicultural bros. Dual nationality bros. _All_ the bros.”

“Terrifying grandma bros.” Lance added, pitching his voice low to be equally serious as he nodded gravely.

“Oh _definitely_ ,” shuddered Hunk, terror flashing across his face. “Dude, I still have flashbacks to when my nan and your aunt met for the first time.”

That had been a riot. Four foot tall and foul mouthed, Hunk’s grandmother had taken one look at Lance’s naturally skinny self and cursed Aunt Talia right out, right there in the middle of the main welcoming hall of the Galaxy Garrison. Lance would _never_ forget his alpha’s traumatised expression.

He needed those little things to keep him going, after all.

 _“He seems particularly taken with you,”_ Raikon’s words suddenly echoed in his mind, Blue’s dirty paws written all over it, _“Big too. He is a fine bloodkin. Or_ will _be-”_

Okay, okay! Sheesh, Lance huffed quietly, rolling his eyes as Hunk filled Pidge in on just how his grandma had terrorised the alpha of the entire Hale clan. Blue trilled at him smugly, mentally pushing him closer to Hunk, pulling him at the same time to something warm and vibrant and spiritually connected.

 _Yellow_ , she purred at him, kneading the bond playfully with her paws. _My Yellow._

Oh, Lance sharply inhaled, awed at the display. Her bond with the Yellow Lion. _Her_ Yellow.

 _And yours_ , she cooed, shoving him towards the tentative bond he shared with Hunk. _Your Yellow. Tell him._

Raikon had said the same thing – ( _“Big too. He is a fine bloodkin. Or_ will _be once you tell him what you are._ ”) – had _told_ him to tell Hunk, to tell _anyone_. But-

-“and Lance’s cousin Derek was there and he was this super grumpy guy, right? Like ‘till now I don’t see how they’re first cousins, but my Gran _loves him_ , like I’m not even gonna lie, she’d _kill_ for him, and- like- she spent the entire next week trying to get him to agree to marry my sister. He looked _so uncomfortable_ , I felt bad but it was also kind of hilarious.” Hunk gossiped, guilt and nostalgic amusement warring on his expression. “They have the same eyes though, now that I think about it.”

“Derek’s is lighter,” Lance offered at Pidge’s look, “Less blue like mine and more grey.”

“They’re proper American,” Hunk added, always eager to reveal people’s information regardless if they wanted it revealed or not. “From California and stuff. Like _proper_ proper, land deeds and history stretching to the colonial era proper.”

Pidge looked suitably impressed, but also confused. “Wait, I thought you were Cuban?”

“Dad’s side,” answered Lance, peripherally noticing Keith’s curiosity. “Mom’s a mainlander, though. Californian through and through.”

“You said dual nationality bros,” Keith hesitantly piped in, surprising Lance (and Hunk, from the stiffening of his arm still over Lance’s shoulder). “Does that mean you’re biracial too, Hunk?”

“Uuh, yeah,” Hunk hesitantly answered, eyeing Keith like he was a ticking time bomb. “My mom’s a mainlander too.”

Keith said something in reply, still looking uncomfortable with actually being _civil_ with them for once, but Lance didn’t hear as he had to deal with Blue shoving at him to _tell Hunk_. Wincing at the headache she was giving him, Lance mentally shoved her back, trying to ignore the onslaught of memories she pulled up like a wave from the ocean, a rising tsunami of past experiences playing before his mind’s eye.

The arm still across his shoulder grew heavier, a warmer presence than before, a thick blanket to bunker under during a cold, winter night.

Hunk was steady, Lance knew ( _Blue whispered_ ), Hunk was reliable. The only danger from Hunk was him outing Lance to everyone else because _he damn well couldn’t keep a secret_.

 _He will_ , Blue whispered, as certain as the rolling tide that came in and faded away. _Yellow is strong, Yellow is steadfast, Yellow is true. And Yellow is the greatest truth-holder of all. My Yellow. Your Yellow. Our Yellow._

She was so certain ( _is so certain_ ) that Lance actually considered it for a moment. He gave Hunk an appraising look from the side of his eye, taking in his friend’s strong jaw, the determination in his eyes and the wide, kind smile as he regaled an interested Keith with stories of life on Hawaii. Of the one time Lance and his family had come and they’d almost all gotten killed in the ocean-

-(Hunk didn’t know, but Hawaii’s oceans were full of selkies, and they’d been _pissed_ when werewolves had suddenly popped in without so much as a by-your-leave. _God_ , Lance was _never going back_ to Hawaii, _ever again_.)-

-The yellow bandana fit his armour perfectly, gave him the look of a warrior, of someone steadfast and true, the vanguard if only he’d be given the chance.

The look of a good, strong, beta.

 _Yellow_ , Blue pressed, feeling his resolve weaken, feeling her victory at hand. _As steady as the earth, as strong as mountains. Someone to lean on. The leg to our leg. **Our**_ _Yellow._

To quiznak with it. _Two_ people telling him to trust Hunk must mean something, right? A giant, sentient robot lion and the prince of an alien race, at that. Who was Lance to argue otherwise? He couldn’t- He couldn’t do _this_ anymore, with fake little bonds and only one true one to keep him grounded. Raikon’s bond was there – was strong – but- but it was that of two werewolves from different, neutral packs. Raikon had a different alpha (his king? Lance didn’t know, maybe it was his queen instead.), _Lance_ had a different alpha. They’d never be able to have a true bond, and Lance didn’t even _want_ one.

Raikon was a friend. But he wasn’t _pack_.

Hunk _could_ be.

“Buddy,” Lance interrupted, his faltering courage emboldened by Blue roaring victoriously in his head. “Ol’ buddy ol’ pal,” he patted Hunk’s chest to get his attention, ripping the yellow paladin away from his riveting story that had Keith and Pidge enraptured. “Sorry to interrupt, but, ah, mind coming with me for a bit? Kinda got something I wanna tell you.”

Hunk immediately turned away from the others, suddenly sharp eyes focused on Lance and Lance alone. The regard was intense – almost suffocatingly so – but Lance was somewhat used to it, used to the near total focus Hunk could bestow upon something without blinking.

“Yeah, sure,” said Hunk, using his arm across Lance’s shoulder to steer him away, rightfully guessing Lance wanted some privacy for this. “What’s up, man? Is this about having to report to Shiro? Don’t worry, dude, I’ll totally stay with you for that, I won’t let him get angry at you.”

 _See?_ Blue rumbled through the bond, ferociously pleased with it all. _My Yellow, Your Yellow, **Our**_ _Yellow._

Jeez, Lance winced, rubbing at an ear in discomfort. Blue really loved her Yellow. Then again, if the Yellow Lion was anything like Hunk, then Lance couldn’t fault her for that. He should do something nice for the Yellow Lion, maybe. Help Hunk the next time they had to clean their lions after a battle or something.

Blue purred, pleased, and sent down something that felt distant, almost muted.

Surprised gratitude. Then exasperated amusement.

Yellow, Lance realised. Blue had forwarded _Yellow’s feelings_. Oh _God_ , what _else_ did the lion’s casually share amongst each other about their paladins?!

“Dude?” Hunk frowned, eyebrows rising. “Lance? What’s wrong, you look freaked.”

“Nothing!” Lance quickly responded, waving a hand to dismiss it all. “Nevermind that, dude, my dude, my delightful cinnabun, my yellow sunflower, the light of my life–”

Hunk laughed, bashful despite the truth of Lance’s words. “Come on, man–”

“No, no!” Lance insisted, grinning at the faint blush tinting Hunk’s dark cheeks. “You’re amazing, ol’ buddy ol’ pal. And I don’t tell you that nearly enough.”

“Sure, buddy,” huffed Hunk, expertly changing the topic with a deft, “What’d you want to talk about?”

Lance stopped grinning.

Oh _crow_ , he realised with a start, how the _hell_ was he supposed to _say_ this exactly?

“Uh…” he started lamely, ignoring the way Blue was bawling with laughter in the back of his mind. How exactly a lion could _laugh_ was beyond him, let alone the way Blue was killing herself chortling the way she was. So unattractive. “There’s something I guess I wanted to tell you…”

“Go on.” Hunk frowned, beginning to look concerned.

No, no, no! Lance didn’t want Hunk to be _worried_ , for god’s sake. He was doing this all wrong! “It’s nothing to be concerned about!” He quickly tried to reassure, relieved when Hunk’s concern faded slightly. “It’s just- uh… something I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time but didn’t know how to? And I’ve kinda been afraid to say anything because I didn’t know – _still don’t_ , to be honest – how you’ll take this but, uh-”

“Are you, like, gay?” Hunk interrupted, confusion audible in his voice.

“What!” Spluttered Lance. “No! I- uh, _what_?”

The Samoan squeezed Lance’s shoulder, reassuringly saying, “It’s totally okay if you are, y’know. I haven’t judged you for your mermaid obsession, so why would I judge you for this?”

“Oh my god,” Lance whispered behind the hand he’d slapped across his face, mortification growing as Blue pealed into more laughter at the back of his mind. He could feel her focus shifting to something else, to _somewhere_ else, and he got the sudden, startling realisation that she was _relaying the conversation_ to the other lions. “Oh my _god_ , stop, _please_.”

No dice. Blue’s laughter was a tsunami of playful water, the ground beneath her rumbling in an earthquake that made no sense until Hunk, confused, said, “Why is Yellow laughing? Dude, why is my lion laughing at you?”

Quiznak, he’d prefer getting reamed by Shiro right about now rather than this.

“ _Lance_.”

Oh god.

Hunk’s eyes had grown wide in sympathetic panic, fixed on a point right behind Lance’s shoulder. Shoulders stiffening, Lance slowly swivelled in place on the balls of his feet, gratified at least by the total silence from his lion, and swallowed thickly at the sight of Shiro stalking towards him.

The black paladin’s expression was grave, tight lines and a stern tilt to his lips that spoke of Lance’s doom. Hunk meeped quietly behind him, warm hand still on Lance’s shoulder, squeezing down comfortingly in a bid to show his support. Lance appreciated it, he really, _really_ , did, but it didn’t save him from Shiro tearing him a new one.

“Lance.” Shiro greeted him sternly, doing the same with the yellow paladin. “Hunk.”

“Uuh, hi,” replied Hunk. “How was the meeting?”

Meeting? Was that why Hunk and the others had been standing in that archway? Just loitering around for whatever meeting Shiro had been in?

“Fruitful,” Shiro answered, expression still hard. “I think the Ravi might finally agree to an alliance.”

That was great news! Lance perked up, pleased to hear that the Ravi might finally be willing to officially join the Voltron Coalition Coran had suggested Allura to start up. Having the Ravi along with the Olkari would immediately make the alliance that much stronger, and Lance knew it would take a load of Allura’s (and the rest of their) shoulder if it worked out.

“I need to speak to Lance, Hunk. _Alone_.”

That was _not_ great news. Lance swallowed thickly, anxiety echoed in Hunk’s face as the big guy geared up to try and _stay_ , to be the ground beneath his feet and hold him up. Just like a leg would. But Lance didn’t want Shiro to get mad at Hunk too – the last thing Lance wanted was for _anyone_ to get mad at Hunk, or for Hunk to burn down bridges before they’d even formed. With that in mind, Lance patted the hand still on his shoulder, giving Hunk a brave smile and eyebrow wiggle to signal he could handle this, really.

Hunk didn’t look convinced, which was insulting, thank you very much, and the indignant look Lance shot back at him had the island boy rolling his eyes and finally – _finally!_ – letting go.

“Fine,” Hunk huffed, throwing Lance some side eye to express his distaste. “I’ll be with Keith and Pidge then. Back at the archway leading to the meeting room. Away. So you guys can _talk_. To each other. Alone. Meaning me not here.”

“Meaning you not listening in on us, either,” Shiro agreed, single eyebrow cocking up tellingly at the hunted look that flashed across Hunk’s face. “We’ll be with you guys shortly.”

Hunk nodded, throwing Lance a quick look before hurrying away, shoulders hunched all the way to his ears. Lance ached at the anxious pose, felt Blue rumble in displeasure within him, but ultimately turned to face Shiro.

“I’ve already talked to Pidge,” the head of Voltron began, his own shoulders ramrod straight as usual. “And I think you know what I’m going to talk to you about.”

Lance winced, already dreading the worst, and nodded. “Yeah,” he awkwardly confirmed. “I think I do.”

“Just-” Shiro stopped, his calm expression showing the first break of irritation, of _disappointment_ , “Just _what were you thinking_? You _offered_ yourself up to join the prince? In infiltrating a whole Galra _battalion_? Are you _insane_?”

Lance opened his mouth, ready to defend himself, but snapped it shut when Shiro held a hand up, demanding silence.

“No,” the Asian sighed, face falling, exhaustion creating lines Lance had never noticed before. “I don’t want to hear it. It’ll just be excuses anyway, won’t it?”

That hurt. That… that really hurt.

“You didn’t just put yourself in danger, Lance,” Shiro continued, strong arms crossing across his broad chest. “You put Pidge in danger as well, you put the entire _possibility_ of an alliance in danger, everything Allura had worked for to make the universe a safer place. Did you even _realise_ how dangerous what you did was?”

Blue’s rumble changed in tenor, the quiet stillness of the ocean before a storm, the deceitful peacefulness of the sea at night, lying in wait for the perfect moment. Lance felt her rage bolster him on, felt it numb the sting of Shiro’s words, felt it cool the hot flush of shame that had filled his chest.

He could understand why Shiro thought the way he did. At least, he _thought_ he could. All Shiro knew was what Allura would have told him, and all Allura knew was what she’d walked into, unaware of the buildup that had happened before her. But-

But Shiro _never listened to him_. He always just- just _assumed_ things about Lance, just _assumed_ Lance was- was nothing _better_. And maybe it was Lance’s fault, maybe he’d joked too much, flirted a little too hard (he’d never get over how Nyma had tricked him, how he’d been too _stupid_ to not notice the similarity she shared with sirens, with the way she’d locked onto him and his heightened senses and had just _known_ he’d be easy, be putty in her hands). Why would Shiro ever listen to him? Or believe him? Or _trust him_?

 _Because you are blue_ , his lion sang to him, shoving her way through, banishing the sense memory of Nyma’s pheromones drowning him in her web. _Because you are the leg of Voltron. Because you have the ocean in your veins and the moon in your heart. Tell him_.

Tell him what?

 _Tell him you are-_ images. Raikon. Pidge. Her family. What could have happened if he’d been quiet, if he hadn’t spoken up, if Raikon had gone alone and been _caught_.

The general. His gauntlets that echoed Sendak’s own.

_Tell him–_

“–I knew.” Lance told him, straightening his spine, looking Shiro right in the eye. “I knew exactly how dangerous it would be to let Raikon go on his own, to risk him getting captured by the Galra when he seemed to be the only one willing to give Voltron a chance. I knew exactly what would happen to the alliance Allura _and Coran_ have tried so hard to create. And, Shiro, I knew-” his voice faltered, hurt shining through as he said, “-I _knew_ Pidge would want any chance she could get to find her family, and would have gone even without me, and that I would try everything in my power to keep her safe. Why didn’t _you_?”

Shiro stared back, stunned, when Lance finally finished. The older man said, “I-” then stopped, lips still moving to form words he couldn’t string together.

“You don’t trust me,” Lance acknowledged into the silence, finally admitting it to himself, to them both. “You don’t even like me, I get it. And maybe that’s my fault, I know I’m not the best at hand to hand-” how could he be, when he’d been taught claw to claw? “-or at being serious all the time, and I guess I’m just not cut out to be a pala-”

Blue _roared_. Shiro staggered backwards, slapping his hands against his ears to block the noise out, startled eyes fixing onto the blue paladin. Lance, in turn, stared back, confused by the reaction, because why was Shiro acting like he’d heard Blue, like he could _still_ hear her angry growling, her protective rage over her paladin and the sheer _possessiveness_ she flooded through their bond.

Shiro started to say something, mouth opening, but stopped, hesitant.

Oh _crow_ , Lance panicked, replaying everything he’d said, the sheer _insubordination_ of it. Maybe this was the last straw! Maybe Shiro would _definitely_ hate him now and even tell him he was off the team! Blue _shuddered_ within him, a strange sensation of a large cat shaking herself all over, and let loose a low subsonic sound that vibrated the very core of Lance’s being.

 _Mine,_ she growled, a riptide of sheer possessive _certainty_ flooding the bond _, My Blue. Mine._

Shiro looked- he looked- _unnerved_? But the ground suddenly became steadier beneath Lance’s feet, his panic settled down, smoothed out like stone eroded by water, and a familiar, warm hand landed on Lance’s shoulder, squeezing companionably.

 _Yellow_ , Blue purred. Hunk.

“Allura’s out,” the yellow paladin announced, explaining his presence easily. “Talks are over. Said I should get you guys so we could all debrief back at our rooms.”

Shiro still looked uncomfortable, lips thin and eyebrows furrowed, dark eyes darting from Lance to Hunk and back again. “Sure,” he said anyway, relaxing in such a way Lance could easily tell was forced. “Then I’ll go ahead. Don’t take too long, you two.”

And he ran away.

Legitimately ran away.

 _Sure_ , it was more of a brisk, power walk, but- but Lance _knew_ a strategic retreat when he saw one, he’d grown up with people (usually the men) in his family that _embodied_ the ‘run away but make it seem like you’re not running away’ look.

Shiro had run away. From him. But _why_?

“You okay, man?” Hunk quietly asked, using his hand on Lance’s shoulder to gently steer him around. “He wasn’t too harsh on you, was he?”

 _Unacceptable_ , Blue snarled, pacing in the part of his mind she occupied. Lance grimaced at the cold anger wafting off of her, shrugging his shoulder to answer the Samoan’s concern. “Nothing too unusual,” he dismissed, deciding to put the strange encounter out of his mind. “You said the meeting was finished? Allura had come out?”

Hunk stared at him for a while, honey amber eyes studying him with a perceptiveness that saw far too much for Lance’s health. “If you say so,” he finally settled on, seemingly deciding not to push it. “Hey, what was it that you wanted to tell me, anyway?”

Oh. Right.

Lance… Lance did _not_ have the energy to do _that_. Not after Shiro. Not after he couldn’t even rely on them to _trust_ him, as he was, without the knowledge of his actual secret. If _Shiro_ couldn’t even see him as an equal member of the team and not some… some screw up… then-

 _Right?_ he sent to Blue, bond quivering with the need for her to understand, to stop _pushing him_ so much.

She whimpered under the onslaught, drowning the feed between them with apologies, with the hushed waves of a quiet night, the ocean almost still save for the slight rocking of currents.

Hunk’s face contorted into something strange, eyes glazing over for a moment in thought before they cleared. “Uuh,” he said slowly, “You can tell me some other time, I guess. That sound good, buddy?”

 _Yellow_ , Blue guiltily mourned, the latest wave receding for cool sand, the grains slipping through their bond like an hourglass. The Yellow Lion, Lance realised, stepping in to steady them like the earth beneath their feet, promising the conversation for another time.

“Come on,” Hunk smiled, worry visible in the slope of his eyebrows. “Let’s get back to the others, yeah? See how the meeting went. Whatever it was you wanted to tell me… don’t- don’t worry about it, ok? You know it won’t change anything between us, right?”

It took a lot to change the earth, after all.

Lance smiled back, nodding to show he’d heard, telling himself that it’d be ok, that Hunk was- Hunk _wasn’t_ Shiro, _wasn’t_ Keith, _wasn’t_ Allura.

“I know.” He answered, still smiling. “We should get going before Allura gets even more angry at me.”

Hunk winced. “I won’t leave you with her,” he vowed, determination flashing across his face. “Not like I just did with Shiro. Not again.”

That… that would be nice.

“Thanks, buddy.”

#

“The Ravi have agreed to join the Voltron Coalition,” Allura declared, holding court to her gathered paladins. They were all huddled together in the bedroom she and Pidge shared, Lance and Hunk lurking at the door once more, offset by Shiro and Keith on the opposite side, near the window. Pidge sat on a chair in between them, near the princess, eyes tracking between the two separate pairs with a worried knowledge beginning to bloom behind her eyes.

Lance hadn’t noticed at first, too busy paying attention to Allura’s continued debrief, and he wouldn’t have noticed if Blue hadn’t quietly pressed into him, requesting his attention. Considering she’d gone silent with repressed rage from the- the _thing_ with Shiro, Lance had immediately focused inwards, trusting Blue to warn him if Allura so much as sneezed in his direction.

 _Little Green_ , his lion murmured to him quietly, unusually subdued. _She has noticed_.

Noticed what, he wondered, eyes tracking over to the green paladin, smiling wanly when they made eye contact. Pidge’s face twisted strangely, honey eyes flickering over to Shiro and back to Lance, and- oh, that expression was apologetic. Pidge was _apologetic_. He twitched a shoulder at her, wordlessly waving away her apology. She pulled a face at him in return, but the anxious slope of her shoulders loosened just visibly, which was good enough for Lance.

 _Paladins should be family_ , Blue bemoaned sadly, swimming under the surface of their bond, heartache drifting from her soul. _This is no family_.

No, Lance agreed, his own heart aching with the knowledge, his pack bonds, his pack bonds stretching across millions of lightyears to a distant blue and green planet _searching_ for their other ends. Blue pumped her power down the line, aiding their reach, stretching them _that bit further_ , and he could feel- maybe- just a faint flicker- just- _something_. And then it was gone, making him question if he’d ever felt it to begin with.

The morose, sluggish currents of Blue’s emotions rippled, the sea of her endless being quivering as sudden rage took hold of her again, the waves crashing against the barrier Lance erected to keep his own emotional stability in check.

 _Wrong, wrong, wrong_ , she chanted, the sudden storm of her emotions battering against Lance, the blue paladin weathering it with a quiet solidarity. And then-

_No._

The sea suddenly went still. Quiet. Tense.

 _Blue_ suddenly went still. Quiet. Tense.

Lance felt an inkling of dread slide down his spine.

Her presence suddenly retreated, sending one last reassuring pulse his way, something that did little to lessen the worry he now felt. Allura’s voice was suddenly crystal clear again, different from the way it had sounded underwater just moments ago. Shiro replied to something – about his and Keith’s mission, Lance noted dimly – but Lance was too focused on chasing after Blue’s threads, calling out to her, asking her what exactly she was planning.

She rebuffed him gently, steering him back to the conversation between paladins and princess, and said, _focus_.

Hunk gently elbowed him, unknowingly echoing Blue’s words, so Lance blinked and swam free from his bond mate’s strangeness.

Pidge was saying- “a success. We were able to retrieve vital data from the battleship and destroy it with no injury. Prince Raikon has agreed to share the details with us once his people have decoded it. Not that _I_ couldn’t have done it,” she grumpily added on, “and even faster, but he wouldn’t let me.”

Allura nodded, a tense smile Pidge’s reward for the debrief. “Then that is all, I suppose. I’ll call Coran and tell him to come, as he is my Royal Advisor and imperative to working out the finer details of the Ravi’s involvement within coalition, but that was always to be expected. If there’s nothing else, Paladins?”

They all shook in a negative, none of them offering up anything new. Allura nodded, and soon enough they all began making their way out of the room, leaving Pidge and Allura to their privacy.

“Oh Lance?” Allura called after him, immediately setting Lance’s nerves on fire. “If I could have a word?”

Hunk stiffened beside him, usually warm eyes flashing in a steely look he shot Allura’s way. Something like warning flashed through the bond, Blue growling a little at the suddenly tense room.

“Pidge,” Allura continued, unaware of the tension spike, “I’ll return soon enough after fetching Coran.” She left, gesturing Lance to follow her down a hallway.

Still unsteady from his encounter with Shiro and Blue’s strangeness, Lance shot a panicked look at Hunk, his friend, his _rock_ , steadying him with a hand to his elbow and a gently tug onwards after the princess. The two set off, Hunk matching his stride easily with Lance’s own, keeping his promise to not leave him with her. Allura was going to be so _pissed_ when Hunk inevitably refused to give them the privacy she’d no doubt want, she was going to be so _angry_. But Lance knew Hunk wouldn’t leave him even if Lance begged him too, not now.

A few steps down the hall, Allura stopped, turning around to face him. Surprise flickered over her face once she noticed Hunk, the look twisting into confusion as she looked between them. “I…” she hesitated, which was _weird_ itself, and continued, “I wished to speak to Lance, Hunk… Alone, if I could.”

Hunk set his shoulders and straightened his spine, looming over them both in a way he usually tried not to. “I’d rather stay, princess.”

Allura looked miffed, eyes tracking between the two before she shrugged it off. “Alright then, I suppose it doesn’t matter either way.” She said cryptically, shooting Hunk a considering look. She inhaled deeply, as if steeling her nerves, as if she was going to do something difficult _for her_ and not rip Lance a new one. “Lance,” she said, turning her full focus on him. “I wanted to apologise.”

Lance stared at her like a deer in headlights.

Allura, not noticing, continued. “During that meeting, I came to realise just how unfair I’d been to you. My inability to understand the Ravi’s culture had me… _stressed_ ,” she confided with a grimace, “and I realise now I’d taken it out on you.”

“No shit.” Hunk muttered under his breath, clearly not quietly enough if the look of hurt that flashed across Allura’s face was any indication.

“You didn’t deserve that,” she continued on gamely, ignoring Hunk’s comment. “You didn’t deserve any of that. You’ve been nothing but exemplary during this diplomatic mission – every Ravi I’ve spoken to has sung nothing but your praises, and your friendship – your _purely_ _platonic_ and companion-like _friendship_ -” she stressed, acknowledging her wrongdoing of accusing him of flirting, “-with the prince had him arguing in favour of the coalition against the naysayers, all but securing our alliance.”

She finally stopped there, looking to Lance for- for something.

Hunk’s elbow jabbing him in the side had him startling in realisation that she was looking for a _response_. For _his_ response. Oh quiznak.

“Uuh,” he replied lamely, rubbing a hand at his nape in awkwardness. “I… thanks? I guess?”

The look of devastation that crossed over Allura’s face was gut-wrenching. “Oh, Lance.” She lamented, looking away to her feet and back up again. “I- you look so surprised. Did you- did you not notice how horrible I’ve been treating you?”

“He did.” Hunk replied firmly, squeezing Lance’s shoulder to stop him from his kneejerk denial.

“Then why…?” Allura frowned in confusion. “Why do you look so surprised? Is it-” a flash of realisation, “-Are you _surprised_ that I’m _apologising_?” She balked. “Have I truly treated you so badly that you’d believe I wouldn’t even apologise? How- just how _long_ have I been- _Belfor’s grave_ , what leader am I? What- what _friend_ am I, to only realise now how- how _horrible_ I’ve been only because others have spoken so fondly of you?” She suddenly whipped to face Hunk, expression still twisted in horror, and gasped out, “Is that- is _that_ why you are here? To- to _protect him from me_?”

Hunk said nothing, his silence answer enough. Despite the warm, heavy hand on his shoulder, Lance still found himself instinctively opening his mouth to reassure Allura, to smooth the ruffled feathers and-

-he snapped his mouth shut at Allura’s raised hand.

“Don’t, Lance.” She requested, the words familiar in their order but tone drastically different. She reached forward with the same hand, faltering for a moment as she turned to Hunk for permission, and continued to lay it on Lance’s shoulder once she’d apparently gained it.

Lance stood frozen under her hand, confused and unnerved by the sudden change from what had become the status quo, and some of it must have translated on his face to warrant Allura’s own expression to soften.

“It would seem that I have failed you, Lance. And I’m beginning to suspect that I have been failing for you for quite some time, perhaps even all of you, if not at least you and Hunk. But I vow to never take you for granted again. I vow to treat you with the due respect you deserve, as both my paladin and my friend, and only pray that you may find it in you somewhere to forgive me for my atrocious behaviour.” She squeezed, gentle with her alien strength. “I know you may not believe me, Lance, but I am forever grateful to have had the chance to meet you, to meet _both_ of you, and to fight by your side. The blue lion made an exemplary decision on choosing you.” She glanced at Hunk, and warmly added, “And so has Hunk.”

Cheeks flushed red from the onslaught of praise, Lance fidgeted where he stood, the undeniable pleased feeling warming his insides just as they did his cheeks. “… Thanks, Allura,” he finally strangled out, mortification rising at the high-pitched crack in his voice. He hesitantly smiled at her, a smile she returned with equal hesitance, and it would have continued being awkward and ungainly for a while longer as they struggled to find equal footing between them if Hunk, unimpressed, didn’t huff and say, “Well, it’s a start.”

The tension broke, Lance and Allura laughing, but the princess looked rueful at the truth of Hunk’s words and hard look. “You’re right,” she agreed, “It _is_ a start. One I’m honoured to even be given. But I really should go,” she added apologetically. “I was truthful about needing to inform Coran of the new developments.”

“Can I-” Lance faltered, bravery disappearing as Allura’s focus switched to him.

Sadness flickered across her face, the previous good mood dampening. “Of course.” She replied confidently, without even knowing what Lance had wanted to ask.

Hunk encouraged him on with a nod, his steady presence a balm to Lance’s nerves. “Can I,” Lance tried again, bravery spooling into existence once more to propel him into finishing his request, into _voicing_ his want. “Can I come with? To Coran?”

Allura _brightened_ , her eyes sparkling in joy as she nodded enthusiastically. “Of course!” She repeated happily, still nodding. “I- of course! Just you or-” Hunk gestured her to lead the way, a silent show that he was going to come too, but Allura didn’t let it falter her step as she genuinely _bounced_ on down the hall, seemingly just happy that Lance still wanted to be around her.

He inhaled shakily, rolling his shoulders to lessen some of the tension that had made it stiff. Hunk squeezed at one helpfully, murmuring quietly that it’d be okay, that this was good news, and Lance could honestly say he believed him.

Stepping forward together, the two legs of Voltron followed after Allura, Lance struggling not to blush as the Altean began telling Hunk every bit of praise the Ravi had sung him, from Preva to Tarvo to the techies that had been in the room when the Galra had first inched ever closer to Ravera.

Blue, still suspiciously distant, purred happily from her place deep in the ocean of their bond, where light could barely reach. Lance tried to reach for her as Hunk launched into his own tale about the first time the prince had taken them out, when Keith and Tarvo had almost come to blows until Lance had diffused the situation, but she gently rebuffed him.

The bond was still open between them though – the only thing keeping him from _really_ worrying – and it was warm and open and needed, and Lance-

_s n a p_

Lance went still.

And then _everythiNg wEnT rED----_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: I'm gonna be changing fic's title from _mostly void, partially stars_ to _seawolf_ as of chapter 6. Incredibly sorry about this, but it was a long time coming. Other than that, my favourite part of this chapter is the end. *cackles*


	6. DrgdROsdaWjiNIfNdlGkjfnm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fIRe cRackLE pOP iT buRNs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> previously mostly void, partially stars, and now **seawolf**! hello, it is I, grossly late as usual. Accept this humble offering of Allura POV and the thing we've all been waiting for. *cackles*

_hes burning hes burning hes burning theyre gonegonegonegonego_

_g on_

_e go_

_ne_

_i t buRnS_

_o h gOd maEK iT STOp_

_p            l             eas        e            --                                       bLuEEEEeeeee ????_

_blUEee????_

_wher     e            w              hy          where pLS          HePL_

_pLeas    eeeeeeee_

_it_

_bUrNS_

_hes burning hes burning they’re gone gone gone she’s gone gone gone he’s burning burning burrrnnInGNGreaalkjddjka---_

_\---snap._

#

Allura felt…

Allura felt _something._

Something thin and almost hidden, something she wouldn’t have ever noticed before, something in the air, like tension, hidden until it was suddenly broken. And whatever it had been, whatever had been in the air, unknown, had most _definitely_ been broken.

Allura had _felt_ it be broken.

“Lance?” She heard herself ask, turning towards the tanned boy, though for what reason she could not be sure. “Did you feel-”

She stuttered to a stop, breath escaping her, sudden pain gripping her heart and _squeezing_ as she took in the most heartbroken expression she’d ever seen in her life. Lance’s eyes were wide, unseeing, locked onto something other than herself, dazed and unfocused, the blue swimming in tears that spilled over. His lips moved, though Allura couldn’t hear anything, not at first anyway, not until she stepped closer, panic a thick lump in her throat, and heard-

“-ne, gone, they’re gone, gone, they’re gone, gone, _gone_ -”

 _What_? “Lance?” Allura breathed, confused, Hunk echoing her from Lance’s other sides.

The blue paladin’s knees buckled, Allura instinctively grabbing a hold of his shoulders, holding him up, panic swiftly transforming to terror as Lance-

He-

Something _shattered_ , a quintessence bond Allura had never noticed before, something she’d never _felt_ before, sacred and treasured, splintering into a million little pieces within the boundaries of her ribs. Allura _flinched_ , hands spasming towards her own chest, to her heart that pulsed sluggishly, each beat circulating a deep seated _pain_ she’d never felt rather than the lifeblood that kept her going.

And Lance- Lance’s whispered frenzy petered into a low, pained moan, drawn out and heartbreaking, echoing the feeling resonating within her soul.

Something had gone wrong. Something had gone _horribly_ wrong. Allura forced her right hand away from her chest, towards the blue paladin she had come to know and treasure as a friend, and placed it comfortingly on his shoulder. Words of reassurances were on the tip of her tongue, a promise to fix whatever had happened, to _protect him_ , unlike what she’d been doing for the past who _knew_ how many spicolian movements, but-

Lance jerked at the touch of her hand. He went still and silent, the sudden absence of his voice raising the tension in the air to a suffocating degree. And then-

Allura _threw herself backwards_.

Pain lanced across her right forearm but she paid it no mind, her attention caught solely on the bright red eyes that snapped towards her, the sharp fangs that gnashed in her direction, the pointed ears so reminiscent of her own but utterly _foreign_. The tanned skin was still there, the high cheekbones and pointy chin would have been difficult to see if she hadn’t seen them every quintent for the past decaphoebe, but everything else was new.

Everything else was terrifying.

“La-” Allura stuttered, shocked into speechlessness. “ _Lance_?”

The creature- no, _Lance_ , by Belfor’s _grave_ it was Lance! – lunged at her, splayed fingers sporting wicked claws barely missing her as she rolled out of the way. Allura shouted again, adrenaline kickstarting her heart back into rhythm, and somewhere, in the chaos of it all, she thought she heard Hunk equally call out his friend’s name.

But neither of their voices made a dent in the deafening roar that shattered their eardrums, the strength of it vibrating _everywhere_ , rattling Allura’s bones. Her breath hitched in her throat, a fear unlike one she’d ever felt before gripping her tight, what the humans called the _flight or fight_ reflex kicking in with the third option Pidge had told her about. _Freeze_. She couldn’t move, she didn’t _want_ to move, she could feel – could just _feel_ – that if she did, Lance – or whatever in Hyvixa’s name had _happened_ to Lance – would hunt her down and bring her to the slaughter.

Hunk’s strong grip brought her out of her stupor, lifting her clean off her feet and _away_ , hurtling them both out the side of a pillar into what she distantly realised to be a courtyard, filled to the brim with royalty – the prince, the _prince_ – staring back at them with shock and horror.

And suddenly Lance – or some form of Lance, something _like_ Lance – was in front of her again, eclipsing her vision, claws slicing through the air towards her face. Hunk’s grip tightened on her, yanked her back as she cringed instinctively _away_ , spinning with the momentum of Hunk’s hold backwards and away as the yellow paladin pushed forward, grabbing Lance in a stronghold to keep him still.

“Lance!” He shouted, voice high and panicked. “Lance, what the _quiznak_ is going on?!”

Somebody shouted her name, ripping her focus away from the snarling creature within Hunk’s arms. Relief shot through her like lightning at the sight of the other paladins pushing through the crowd of Ravi royalty, Shiro leading the charge. Thank _Belfor_ , Allura sighed, the best two combatants they had were back, and with Pidge to boot. Her long range bayard would be useful against the creature’s- no, _Lance_ , she had to keep reminding herself that this was _Lance_ – claws.

And then Lance _threw Hunk off_.

The courtyard fell into pregnant silence, Allura’s exhale stuck in her throat, shock rippling through them all. Hunk was _three times_ Lance’s size, a steady rock even Shiro had trouble with as they all improved with constant training, and yet Lance had shaken him off like he was a wet leaf.

Shiro was there the next second, shaking off the shock quickly, Keith dogging his footsteps as they both tackled Lance to try and hold him. Hunk – shaken but alright – joined in, each of them grabbing the blue paladin to restrain him.

Lance didn’t wait long to shake them off this time, snarling in their face before _roaring_ , throwing Keith off first, then using his freed arm to swipe at Shiro and Hunk. They let go in self-preservation, Lance grabbing the opportunity to roundhouse kick them clear across the courtyard.

“What the _hell_ , Allura?” Pidge shouted, activating her bayard as she slid in next to her. “Is that Lance? Is that _actually_ Lance?”

“I don’t _know_!” Allura shouted back, concern rising her voice to a high pitch as Shiro and Hunk struggled back to their feet. Lance turned to them, claws flexing, and took an ominous stop towards them before Keith intercepted, red sword gleaming and proud in a downswing that Lance easily dodged. Keith wasn’t so quick to dodge the kick Lance countered with, nor was he quick enough to hide the pained gasp at the strength behind it. He wouldn’t be able to last long. “Pidge! Hold him back! Use your bayard!”

“No!” Raikon barked, suddenly _there_ , slapping Pidge’s bayard down. “Enough! Stand down paladins, I shall restrain him!”

Allura bristled, even as she reached forward and grasped Keith as soon as he was within range, pulling him towards the safety of herself and Pidge as Raikon let loose a spine-tingling snarl and jumped in to the fray. Shiro and Hunk were finally back on their feet, the latter limping slightly, and Allura beckoned them towards her.

Unlike them, Raikon was clearly better suited for whatever in Hyvixa’s name was happening. He danced within the confines of Lance’s clawed swings, avoided the kicks that came and stood strong in the face of Lance’s fanged roars. And Lance- Lance looked _feral_ in return, with fangs protruding from his mouth, the tips of his fingers lengthened into deadly claws, his eyes – his usually blue eyes – glowing – _glowing_ – a blood red that dragged chills down her spine.

He fought like a beast, wide swings of deadly claws and impossible acrobats, twisting hips and spinning kicks Allura had never seen before. She’d noticed, maybe, that Lance had long legs that could lend to a leaner fighting style as opposed to Keith’s brute style, but never in her life would she have thought of _this_.

Whatever _this_ was.

“What _happened_ to him?” Pidge breathed, horrified, letting a panting Keith lean against her shoulder.

“He just- he just _went_ like this!” Hunk shouted, pulling at his hair in panicked anger. “We were talking, we were _just_ talking, and then he suddenly just went still and started _crying_ and then went _insane_!”

Shiro gripped Hunk’s hands, trying to pull them away from the genius’ hair as he asked, “ _Crying_? Why? What happened?”

Hunk snatched his hands away, stepping away from Shiro with an angry huff. “I don’t _know_ , Shiro, maybe you can tell _me_?”

Allura frowned, confused at the hostility coming from the usually gentle boy, but then hadn’t Hunk been hostile towards her just a few minutes ago? Before she’d apologised to Lance? But why would he be hostile to _Shiro_?

And Shiro, to her growing confusion, suddenly looked _guilty_.

“Whatever happened,” Keith interrupted, wincing as he finally straightened up, “We need to deal with it fast. The prince isn’t going to hold up much longer.”

He wasn’t wrong. The prince was struggling under Lance’s never-ending onslaught, the blue paladin not letting up as the prince slowly but surely began tiring, getting pushed back inch by inch. A too close swipe had Raikon losing his footing, stumbling backwards and barely ducking away from another swipe that would have completely taken his head off.

Keith gripped his bayard and dashed forward, Shiro joining him, the two sliding seamlessly into place with the prince.

“Preva!” Raikon shouted, linking his hands together for Keith to use as a jumping platform. “Get Kalder!”

The shout snapped the remaining Ravi out of their stupor, the few soldiers protecting the royals shouting, “Contain the beast!” and rushing forward into the fray.

Allura shouted, “No!” lunging forward to stop them, Pidge holding her back with a strength Allura would have never guessed at. She shouldn’t have worried for Lance though, because Lance _decimated_ the Ravi, spreading them thin and panicky within seconds, all the while growling, voice pitched low like a pained moan.

Allura shook off Pidge, determined to use her Altean strength to pin him down once and for all. Lance suddenly whipped his head up, caught by her movement, the sharpness of his fangs, the clear blue eyes she’d known bright in their murderous red, stilling her to her core. And then he threw his head back, attention on the silver glow of the supermoon that forever remained present in Ravera’s skies, and _roared_ , vibrations rattling her bones with untold fear.

And then-

 _Gone_.

That hideous screech, that downright _unnatural_ screech, had held them all still like frightened children, huddling in the folds of their mother’s dress. He’d used that to just- to just _leap away_ , disappearing with the beastly speed he’d fought them with.

Allura felt the clawing fear break as soon as her hind brain realised the threat was gone, saw it echo in everyone else, in how Raikon struggled upwards to his feet, catching his composure far quicker than she could and shouting orders at his men to get the few injured taken care off and seen.

A new figure materialised out of nowhere, dark and imposing, hair a blood red that still somehow bled out of the shadows into existence. Preva was beside the man, small and petite in comparison, and almost looked reverent as she struggled to keep astride the taller newcomer’s gait.

She lumbered forward towards them, remembering with a startling clarity that Raikon had ordered Preva to get the person who’d she’d only heard about, the lone commander she had yet to meet. Kalder looked everything like she’d expected and yet nothing alike. His body, while taller and thicker built than the prince, was as pale as the moon that hung up above, his red hair a lone contrast. He walked with a sort of calm certainty that whispered the same echoes of fear Lance had inspired.

This Kalder was dangerous.

And he was far too close to her paladins for comfort.

Pidge once more grabbed her arm, but Allura just pulled her along as she hurried towards where Keith was helping Shiro up to his feet, startling slightly when Hunk tore right past her at a far faster pace. As they grew closer she could hear Raikon’s hurried commands to his commanders, voice tight with suppressed rage. She couldn’t hear _what_ exactly he was commanding, wasn’t close enough, but Hunk- Hunk was right there, heading for _them_ rather than his fellow paladins, and with a quiet sort of fury announced, “I’m coming too.”

The Ravi’s went silent, Raikon, Preva and Kalder turning to look at Hunk, the former two incredulous while the third impassive, neutral and uncaring.

“You’re going after Lance,” Hunk continued, expression stormy with anger. “I’m coming too.”

Alarmed, Allura turned to the Ravi, seeing the truth in his words on their faces. “Absolutely not!” She demanded, taking a step towards them. “Not until we know what the quiznak happened!”

“I’d like to know that too,” Shiro agreed, coming to a stop beside her, Keith at his shoulder. “Especially since this is happening right after Lance was alone with _you_.”

The mission. _The mission_. And hadn’t Raikon shown interest in Lance before that? Hadn’t he arrived here, at this courtyard, right as Lance fell ill with whatever had taken him? With whatever had turned him into _that_? (Or had he already been here, a panicked, frantic voice whispered in her mind, was she losing her mind too? Was whatever had affected Lance affecting her? Would it affect any of her remaining team?)

“Whoa!” Pidge spoke up, alarmed, “I was there too, Shiro! Raikon did nothing to Lance!”

“And I would _never_.” the Prince _hissed_ , anger and disgust curling his lips into a snarl. “At least show _some_ concern for your injured princess before accusing me of treachery, _paladin_.”

Shiro reared back, just as Allura frowned, wondering what Raikon was talking about until Pidge tightened her hold and gently said her name. She tilted her head towards the shorter paladin, answering her call, and saw the reason for it as her arm – her right arm – came into view.

The arm she’d used to defend herself when Lance had first-

Ah.

That was… quite a lot of blood.

The pain suddenly hit her, more aches than the no doubt sharp pain it would have been when it had been inflicted. She couldn’t quite remember what had caused it, but the deep chunk almost – _almost_ – missing from her arm echoed the sharp fangs that crowded Lance’s suddenly far too large mouth. He’d… he’d bitten her.

She suddenly felt a little faint.

Shiro caught her when she wavered, though she was vaguely proud to know that she hadn’t outright fallen. How weak she must look, suddenly at the cusp of fainting just because of a little wound. She was supposed to be strong, wasn’t she? The leader of Voltron – the _Princess_ of Voltron – not someone to be bothered by the sight of her own blood.

But… it had been quite a while since something had injured her so.

Since something had been _strong enough_ to injure her so.

Pidge looked pale, even Hunk looked sick at the red blood that trickled steadily down her arm. She’d found it interesting when she’d seen the paladin’s bleed for the first time, had thought it poetic, righteous even, that they bled the same red as Alteans. Yes, she’d thought proudly, it was only right that the defenders of the universe bled the same colours as the righteous Alteans. Who knows how she wouldn’t reacted if they’d bled purple.

If they’d bled the same colour as the Galra.

“Shit,” Hunk muttered, coming to her aid with his headband, gently but firmly wrapping it around her arm and ignoring her protests. “You need a medic- no, the pods. That looks deep enough to cause nerve damage.”

She didn’t know what this ‘nerve’ damage was, or what it could mean for her, but she certainly knew they were all taking this far too badly. “It’s just a scratch,” she lied, ignoring the fact that it was most certainly _not_ a scratch. “It can hold while we figure out what happened, and how to proceed.”

“Sire,” A Ravi interrupted, jogging forward to join them, a dangerously sharp lance in one hand. “Injury report. Thirty soldiers injured, four dead. The royals remain unharmed. A messenger was dispatched to inform Mother Queen and Father King of the incident. They’ve dispatched the Crows.”

Raikon snarled, eyes flashing, hand snapping out to wrap around the soldier’s throat. “And _who_ ,” he hissed, the sudden sharp glint of his lengthened canines making Allura uncomfortable. “Gave the order to dispatch a messenger?”

Terrified, the soldier stuttered, “I-I, sire.”

Raikon squeezed, the solder’s breath hitching audibly in fear, then let loose. Dropping to the ground, the soldier sucked in lungfuls of air before bowing deeply and shuffling away, back to the controlled chaos of the soldiers taking care of their own.

“That’s not good, is it?” Hunk asked quietly, still holding Allura’s hand, gentle, despite the anger still tightly leashed beneath his words.

“No,” Raikon hissed, curling the fingers of the hand that had been wrapped around the soldier’s throat, as if aching to go back and finish what he’d started. “We must go now. Kalder, _you_ must go now. Quickly. Before the blasted Crows.”

Kalder nodded, turning to leave, but stopped when Hunk grabbed him by the shoulder.

“No,” the yellow paladin said. “Not until you explain to me what the hell is happening to my best friend.”

“He’s a berserker.”

Hunk let him go, face going blank at the fact that the previously silent commander had actually responded, had actually spoken up. “He’s a what.”

Kalder stared back at him, nonplussed by Hunk’s rage. “A beast. What happened now was him losing control. Some call it bloodlust. Others moon-drunk.”

“And what,” Hunk gritted out, gripping his bayard tight, “Do _you_ call it?”

The red-haired giant was silent for a while, eyes finally breaking contact to dip down, his quiet demeanour suddenly achingly sad. “… I call it grief.”

Hunk almost dropped his bayard.

“I cannot be certain,” the commander continued, still not looking up, still avoiding eye contact, still sad. “It could be anything that caused such a reaction. Young age. Stress. Lack of control. Lack of support.”

“But you said grief,” Hunk whispered, expression broken in pain. “You said _grief_ , first. Of all of those things, you said _grief_. Why? _Why did you think of that first_?”

It hit Allura like a lightning strike of pure quintessence. “He’d-” She choked up, grief swelling her throat shut at the implications, at suddenly understanding what she’d heard, “He’d said something before, right before-“ right before he’d shifted, right before her eyes. “He’d said ‘ _they’re gone_ ’, repeating it over and over again. I didn’t, I didn’t get it, but-”

Hunk spun towards her, horror marking his own understanding, his own memory of hearing the same thing before Lance had torn into her arm with mindless ferocity.

“That’s impossible,” Shiro frowned, but something strange was in his eyes, in the stretch of his shoulders, something strange like tension. “ _Who_ would be gone? How would he be able to even feel it, all this way, even if they – whoever they are – were gone? He’s not this ‘berserker’, or whatever you’re going on about… he’s human. He’s a hundred percent human.” And then, slowly, “… Isn’t he?”

“You should know that yourself!” Raikon growled, begin to pace in the wide, quickly emptying court yard; harsh strides impeded by sharp turns every few paces. “You should know the very basic information of your so-called teammates existence! He knew! Understood what I meant when I explained what a berserker was, but he begged me not to out him, to any of _you_ ,” he shot a dark look at them, aiming the venomous glare at Shiro and Keith especially. “It was not hard to infer that your world does not look kindly upon his kind.”

Hunk blanched, a stuttered- “-His _kind_? Just what the hell is a berserker? What the hell exactly do you think Lance _is_?”

 “And why would he tell _you_?” Shiro pressed, ignoring the prince, taking a step towards him threateningly, something about _berserker’s_ setting him off. “Why would he trust you but not us? _We’re_ his teammates, _we’re_ the ones from the same planet as him, why would he trust _you_ to understand something you claim he is? That’s not him,” Shiro insisted, and something about it struck Allura strange, confused her slightly. “That’s _not_ Lance, because Lance is _human_. And even if it _was_ Lance, what does _he_ have to be stressed about? What grief? What control? Why would he _lose_ it?”

“Because of _YOU!_ ” Raikon shouted, shoving Shiro back by the shoulder, waving an arm erratically at the bruised and beaten remains of Voltron.

Shiro stumbled backwards, kept on his feet by Keith, forever at his shoulder, and incredulously demanded, “ _Us_? What on earth could you mean _us_?”

“Because he doesn’t _trust you_ , does he?” Raikon laughed, the sound broken and stretched, high and reedy with his own incredulousness. “Because the blue paladin – _Lance_ – begged me not to tell you, was _afraid of you_ , of _all of you_ , and how you’d react to his existence. And I don’t blame him – not one bit! I’ve seen how you treat your so called team, how you treat your blue paladin, even your yellow! He is a far stronger man than I ever could be to put up with the complete distrust you hold in him.”

Shiro gritted his teeth, took a step forward _again_ , and said, “We _do_ trust him. He’s _our_ teammate.”

Raikon snarled, ready to throw back another barrage of insults, but held his tongue when Hunk – _Hunk_ – snorted in painful amusement and said, “No, no you don’t. You barely listen to him, to _us_. You never talk to either of us unless it’s an order, you choose Keith every single damn time even if it would make more tactical sense to take either me or Lance. The only person you ever talk to besides Keith, the only person you ever show any damn respect to, any actual consideration for, besides _goddamn Keith_ , is Pidge and Allura. So no,” Hunk laughed lowly, dismissing Shiro by turning his head away, “You _don’t_ trust us. And you certainly don’t trust _him_.”

Shiro opened his mouth, faltered for a long moment, then quietly closed it, bewildered.

“It’s true,” Allura quietly agreed, wincing when Shiro turned to look at her, betrayed. “Not you- or, well, not _just_ you. But myself, too. I only just grew to realise my mistreatment of Lance, just now, in fact. Of my mistreatment of Hunk too – and I fear, perhaps, of all of you – but Lance especially.”

“Like hell,” Keith harshly cut in, Shiro shocked dumb beside him. “Just because Shiro chose me for that one mission? Just because he _trusts_ me to watch his back? Lance just wanted to go and got you to talk for him, didn’t he?” Keith was angry, angrier than Allura had ever seen, protective in his rage and the way he tried to shield his older brother with his own, smaller, body. “He’s just fucking jealous Shiro chose _me_ , isn’t he? Why the hell would Shiro even choose _him_?” And then- “-He must have done this to himself somehow. Flirted with the wrong person. _Again_.”

Something snapped in the air, and Keith was suddenly on the ground, holding his nose with a pained groan. Allura blinked, shocked by the suddenness of the movement, and turned in surprise to Hunk, watching as the paladin she’d thought most gentle relaxed his outstretched arm, bayard at the end of his clenched fist dirty with the same blood trickling from Keith’s nose.

“If you ever say anything like that again,” Hunk threatened quietly, voice gentle in cadence, calm and unobtrusive. “My bayard won’t be dormant.”

He turned to Kalder before anyone could say anything – if anyone even _would_ say anything, all the paladins and Allura staring at his broad back with utter shock – and said, “Now how do we find him?”

Raikon laughed, a burst of sharp pleasure, and slapped Hunk across the back, almost stumbling the larger human. “You!” He shouted, rolling his shoulders to release the tension in them. “I knew there was a reason I liked you! Good, you go with Kalder.”

Kalder tilted his head in agreement, eyes once more back on Hunk, considering him in a new light. “It will not be easy.” He gently warned.

Hunk grimaced, shoulders straightening under his stare. “I don’t expect it to be.”

“… He will not recognise you.”

Hunk’s grimace faltered, pain streaking across his eyes. “I don’t care.”

“I’m coming too,” Allura announced, feeling Pidge square up beside her, equally determined.

Kalder shook his head, only giving them a second’s glance before dismissing them entirely and turning back to Hunk. “We must go now, before the Queen-”

“-Before I what?”

Allura’s breath caught in her throat.

Behind them, at the entrance she’d walked through only moments ago with a happy Lance and Hunk, was a woman. She was familiar in every way but for her clothing – the soft silks of royalty suddenly replaced with a dark ensemble of a dress scattered with metal plating, with what Allura realised in growing dread was armour.

Behind her was a small squadron of Ravi’s, dressed in matching dark clothes, lithe and dangerous in the way they moved. They cloaked the Queen on either side as her bodyguards, but always a step or two behind, her loyal servants, never her equal.

And Allura had a feeling the Queen didn’t exactly need them.

“My son,” she announced serenely, gliding forward towards them, the bottom of her dress remaining clean despite dragging across the floor. “I thought I’d beaten the unruliness out of you.”

Raikon looked pale, eyes wide in fear as he dropped to his knees, the remaining Ravi in the area copying the movement, all of them – the prince included – baring their throat, fists at their heart. “Queen Mother,” he replied uneasily, “I- I do not know what you mean.”

The Queen looked unamused at his terrible subterfuge. “You plan to defy my Crows and seek the beast out.”

Swallowing thickly, Raikon turned pleading eyes to his mother, who Allura realised with a start she’d never seen him treat her motherly, and simply said, “… Please.”

“You’ve always had some fondness for the beasts,” the Queen sighed, the expression so fake Allura’s teeth ached from the bitter sweetness of it. “I’d thought allowing you to keep one would quell it.” A dismissive glance at Kalder – the red-haired man flinching, ever so slightly. “I suppose not. I shall deal with you later, my son.”

Terror flashed across Raikon’s eyes, “Queen Mother-!”

“Silence.”

The prince snapped his mouth shut, white as a sheet.

“I will not,” she continued slowly, words and intent precise and sharp as a surgeon’s scalpel, “Have an out of control berserker loose in my land. Tonight, the hunt begins. My Crows shall have it’s head by a third of the moon’s turn.”

She moved to leave, a dancer’s turn showing them her back, but stopped for a moment. A dismissive look backwards at the team held them still, suddenly choking them on the heavy tension in the air, on the fear still in the prince’s face, the slight trembling evident in Preva’s shoulders. “Your failure to tame your berserker speaks much of your prowess.” Derisive, dismissive, a taunt. “The council will take this incident into consideration.”

And she turned away from them again, having said her peace, and glided away.

Except then Hunk said-

-“Screw that.”

The queen halted, figure going deathly still before slowly turning around, sharp, crystal blue eyes fixing on Hunk, a single, lone eyebrow raised in question.

Hunk shook the tension off, bayard still gripped tight within his hand, and said, “If you think I’m going to let _anyone_ hurt Lance, even your whatever _Crows_ , then you’re absolutely delusional.” His bayard glowed, golden light coalescing together and growing until the heavy weight of it tilted towards the ground, the long barrel of Hunk’s activated bayard coming into view, the threat obvious.

Still on his knees, Raikon stared wide eyed at the bayard, mouth dropped open, before his eyes flickered upwards to Hunk’s determined face, realised his implied threat, and – genuinely looking _scared_ – hissed, “Yellow Paladin!”

But Hunk refused to heed his warning, bayard held tight and shoulders straightened, staring the Queen down, an immovable force, the very mountains his lion represented.

“And what,” the Queen’s melodic voice chillingly cut through the air, stealing the breath from Allura’s throat once more. “Can a measly _human_ like you _do_?”

As if in answer, the earth around them _shook_ , the roar that pierced through the sky reverberating through the ground, Allura quickly grabbing a hold of Pidge and Shiro – the two closest to her – as they all stumbled and almost lost their footing.

Behind them, the whine of familiar blasters came closer, the ground shaking harder as it grew louder, and she knew – she _knew_ – what was coming, just as the yellow lion landed right on top of them in answer to the Queen’s question, eyes alight and tail thrashing.

What remained of the Ravi were speechless, even the Queen’s guards taking a hasty step back in frightened awe. Allura looked back to confirm it, knew the others did the same thing, but Hunk – blaster in hand – didn’t take his eyes off the Queen for a second.

“For my bro?” Hunk answered, voice fierce, eyes just as bright as his lion’s. “ _Everything_.”

Quietly, by her side, Pidge whistled, low and impressed, before stepping forward, right up next to Hunk, the smaller – but just as strong – companion to the yellow paladin, and exhaled as her own bayard formed into her trusted dagger. “Yeah,” she agreed, glaring the Queen down. “What he said.”

The Queen stared at them both, not once taking her eyes off them to look at the lion, until finally, _finally_ , she turned those cold eyes to the rest of Voltron, to their dingy, broken states, finally landing on Allura. “And you?” She asked, the question aimed at them all.

Allura inhaled bracingly, feeling her arm sting and throb, and carefully took her own step forward, catching Shiro’s lost expression. Sympathy stabbed at her – no, _empathy_ – because she knew just how he felt. Lost and uncertain, everything she thought she’d known about her own team dusted and thrown to the wind.

“I don’t-” she started, faltering under the Queen’s icy stare. “I don’t truly understand the entire… situation. I know I’m unaware of much of the nuances here, that my… ignorance runs deep, and I do not necessarily feel comfortable with this,” with publicly going against the Queen like this, with facing against a woman who terrified Raikon so strongly, who had so calmly said she’d _beaten_ the unruliness out of him, out of her own son. But-

(she hesitated, bit her lip, winced again at the pulsing ache of her forearm.)

“But, I trust Hunk. I trust his judgement, in this, and in all matters, but especially when it comes to Lance, because Hunk has always had his best interest in mind. Something I can admit I have failed to do so.” She turned to Hunk, saw him finally break away from his stare to look at her, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as to where she was going with any of this. That lack of understanding, the fact that he didn’t _understand her_ , hurt her deeply, made the part of her that loved her father so much rage at how _wrong_ she’d been, how _horrible_ of a leader she’d become, how she’d perverted everything her father had worked so hard to teach her by not even taking the time to _get to know_ her paladins, only order them.

“I trust _you_ , Hunk.” She told him, ignoring the Queen’s presence, ignoring whatever in Balfor’s name could have happened between their legs of Voltron and the black paladin, ignoring everything but the guarded look that still lingered behind Hunk’s eyes as he looked back at her, even now. “You are our yellow paladin, our loyalty and trust-” everything that the yellow lion would have looked for, everything she’d _ignored_ , “-So…”

She turned to the Queen once more, stepped back so the Prince was also in view, and dropped to her knees. She raised her aching right arm, clenched her fist, and placed it at her heart, baring her throat to the Queen in front of her.

She heard Raikon’s stuttered breathing, heard Shiro’s sharp inhale, saw Hunk’s guarded expression break entirely into confusion, but kept her focus on the Queen.

“Please,” she said, suddenly feeling small, “Let us go and find him. If the Crows find him before we do, then so be it. But… if we find him first… Let us try and help him.”

The Queen gave her a long, thoughtful look.

The Queen sighed.

The Queen accepted.

“Very well,” she agreed, tilting her head ever so slightly, her pale, moonlit kissed hair, spilling over one shoulder. “But if my Crows succeed,” she warned lightly, “then know that my hunt will continue. With your heads, instead.”

And finally, the cold eyes were off her, sweeping once more over the rest of them, before stopping on her son. She said nothing, only stared at him for a moment before turning around and leaving, her entourage falling into line at her shoulders, a perfect step behind.

As soon as she was out of their sight, the tension snapped, letting loose and letting them breathe once more. Raikon shuddered, hiding his face for a moment before snapping back up to his feet. He looked spooked, his hands shaking ever so slightly as he ran them through his long hair. “We have lost far too much time,” he said, voice shaken but growing steadier as he spoke. “The Crows move fast. We must move faster. Kalder, for the love of the moon, _go_.”

Kalder nodded, eyes downcast and meek, and gestured at Hunk to follow. Hunk moved to do just that, but when Pidge and the rest of them did the same thing, he stopped and stared at them all.

“You guys go back to the castle,” the yellow paladin said, grimacing at the protest they suddenly gave. “No, guys, _listen_.” They all shut up, remembering the harsh wake up call he’d thrown at Shiro just moments ago. “Blue should have come, she should have done _something_ , when whatever the hell happened happened. But she didn’t. You guys go to the castle and see what’s going on. Pidge, you need to take Allura to the medic bay.” He paused, gave Keith a look, and balefully added on, “Him too.”

Pidge looked like she was going to argue – _Shiro_ looked like he was going to argue – but they both stopped at Hunk’s grim face. Slowly, Pidge nodded. Shiro helped Keith stand, held him steady when he wobbled, and Allura gave in easily when Pidge turned determinedly towards her. She couldn’t argue against the green paladin, not when she looked like that – easier to admit defeat.

“Bring him back,” she said instead, trying to smile at Hunk, knowing that she failed. “I know he’ll listen to you.”

Hunk didn’t look comforted by her words, instead looking troubled by something, but he nodded instead. “I will. Now go.”

They went. Slowly and unsteadily, all of them supporting each other, and watched as Hunk turned away and disappeared behind a courtyard exit with Kalder.

… Something had broken, Allura thought to herself, quietly and grimly. She was just too afraid to think of what.

**Author's Note:**

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